


Coup de Foudre (Love at First Sight)

by born_awkward



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Bishop's gambit, Dameron delivers a message, Devoted Reylo, Dopheld rides out, Estrangement, F/M, French Wars, Getting to know you, Giving thanks, HEA, Idiots in Love, Love and Marriage, Marriage, Matchmaking, Mon Oncle, New Additions, Raymond de la Mare, Rey delivers a message of her own, Rey meets the prince, Skywalker Family Drama, Stand by your man, Temper Temper, The Bretons, Trouble In Paradise, a Lie, a reconciliation, a separation, an invitation, angst - lots of angst, ch-ch-changes, changing positions, deadlier than the male, did i tag 'idiots in love', equals in power, finding my place in all this, is that a crossbow in your hand or are you just pleased to see me?, it goes as well as you may think, marie-claude, meet the Uncle, mention of hanging but not carried out, more fluff and smut, more than she seems, past loves present wives, plutt? - I heard it was something he ate, she also meets one of Kylo's exes, smut and fluff for days, stopping the show, stranger danger, taking whatever she wants, the betrothal, the green-eyed monster, unsettled times, wedding night (le smut), writing on my heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-10-22 05:51:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 62,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17657120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/born_awkward/pseuds/born_awkward
Summary: Kylo Ren, the captured captain of an English 'free company' in medieval France has been condemned to die.Rey, a lovely young Frenchwoman redeems him through marriage and take him to her home: Les Romarins.Will he stay with her and honour his oath made at the altar, or will he return with the disinherited Earl of Warwick to the service of the dying English prince to protect his infant son?Will Rey's uncle, the powerful Bishop of Theed, cousin to the French King, part them - angered that she has married an enemy of France?REYLO MEDIEVAL AU





	1. Chapter 1

Rey, walking down a narrow side street toward one of the city squares, was aware of a murmuring noise ahead. The sound was shifting in intensity, rising and lowering in response to some as yet unseen event. Stepping into the square she saw the reason – a crowd gathered for a public hanging. Rey was determined to pass through the crowd as quickly as she could, her heart too tender to enjoy such a spectacle. As she pushed through the good citizens of Paris, her eyes did flick toward the scaffold. A man, no, a giant, the last man to be hanged that day, caught her eye. The man stood silent and unconcerned, hands bound behind him, awaiting the hangman’s convenience  


Rey’s steps, without realising, had slowed and she found she had drifted closer to the scaffold as if some invisible force were drawing her. As she pushed forward, eyes fixed on him, the man looked up, staring directly at her. Their eyes locked and suddenly she was breathless, the colour in her cheeks turning a brighter pink under his gaze. Rey’s steps slowed to a stop and the noise of the crowd was suddenly drowned to a distant murmur. The man continued to stare, and then jolted as though woken from a dream, a wide smile broke over his face and then he winked at her.  


The tableau on the scaffold shifted as the man’s attention was momentarily diverted by the hangman seizing his arm and drawing him toward the adjusted halter, the priest before him making the signs to do with granting absolution from sins. As he was pulled toward the place for execution, the man locked eyes with Rey one last time and again winked at her. “See, remarked a man near her to his neighbour, observing these signs of insouciance in a man about to meet his Maker, the English, they have no religion.”  


At once, Rey understood. This man was a captured member of one of the ‘free companies’ who roamed France and the surrounding countries, living off the land and raiding whomever they chose until the english king called them once more to join his army and make war on the french king.  


Rey came to from the unreality of a vision she had been granted to the reality of the man’s situation. Surging farther forward, she called out to the hangman, “M’sieur. M’sieur, stop!” her voice rose above the renewed murmuring of the crowd. “M’sieur, stop! I am willing to claim this man as my husband.”  


“What’s this, what’s this, exclaimed the hangman, who spoke those words?”  


“I spoke those words, M’sieur” proclaimed Rey, moving forward as the crowd parted before her as though marshalled aside by some invisible force. Another murmur began in the crowd: the spectacle of something beyond a mere hanging unfolding before them.  


“What, what, exclaimed the hangman, taking note of Rey’s youth, are you joking little girl? This is a serious matter. Where is your mother? You need to be schooled in proper behaviour.”  


“M’sieur, I am my own mistress, and the True King of France has decreed that any prisoner taken of the English, who will renounce his treachery against him and marry a decent Frenchwoman, will be released into her charge and pardoned of his treason. Are you not a true subject that you do not know this?”  


“My child, the priest intervened, you are so young, do you realise what you are asking this day?”  


“Yes, Mon Pere, I truly do, and if you will come with me to the church of Sacre-Coeur, which is not far from here, Pere Francois will speak for me and tell you I am eligible to marry this man and take him for my husband.”  


Silence reigned throughout the square, breaths held, people jostling for a better view, awaiting the judgment of the priest. Rey had spoken clearly; her words seemed to echo around the square.  


Staring down into the determined face before him, Rey was by this time standing directly by the scaffold, the priest shrugged and raised his palms to heaven, “Very well, then, we will go see Pere Francois and seek his advice.”  


A further murmur passed through the crowd.  
“Thank you, Mon Pere, and I want my fiancé to walk beside me.” Rey did not trust this hangman.  


A ripple of laughter swept through the crowd at the little maid’s boldness. This was a rare treat indeed. What was a hanging compared to this! Those boisterous spirits, the apprentices, began to take bets amongst themselves that ‘La Petite’ would have her way.  


“What, what!” spoke the hangman again.  


“I want my fiancé to walk beside me to church, the stubborn look was back and a determined pout, and I don’t want him bound either.”  


The hangman was scandalized by the young woman’s saucy behaviour and would have denied her. However, the apprentices were now pushing forward in support of Rey. These individuals had a reputation for wreaking havoc and dealing out rough treatment on those who crossed them outside of their master’s house. Seeing them advance in support of the little maid, the hangman caved in. Muttering to himself, he loosened the bindings around the prisoner’s hands and pushed him toward the scaffold’s steps.  


As he descended, Rey boldly linked his arm with hers and drew him forward in the direction of the street which led to L’Eglise du Sacre-Coeur and Pere Francois. Hangman and priest fell in behind. The apprentices formed a rearguard and any citizen with inclination and time to spare joined themselves to the unconventional wedding party.  


+++++  


Pere Francois, priest of L’Eglise du Sacre-Coeur, was engaged in quiet contemplation when he heard the doors of the church open. He didn’t react at first, after all citizens came and went constantly throughout the day between Masses. Then, however, the shuffling of feet increased, as if many people had entered the church, and excited, if muted, chatter broke the peace.  


Turning, he saw a man and a woman advancing toward him arms linked, followed by young men who were obviously apprentices and a mixed company behind them. Hands were dipping in holy water and each individual genuflected as was proper. Why then did Pere Francois sense that anarchy had just entered this sacred place?  


Peering forward, he recognised the young woman, “Rey?”  


“Pere Francois” Rey answered.  


A priest was pushing forward followed by a rough, belligerent sort of man. The heart of Pere Francois dipped. Trouble, he knew it.  


“Pere Francois, the priest was speaking, this young woman has invoked her right to redeem this condemned man, an Englishman, a mercenary, and take him as her husband. Pere Francois, what is your counsel on this matter?”  


“You are?” enquired Pere Francois.  


“A thousand apologies, Monseigneur, the priest dipped his head in courtesy, I am Pere Alfonso, appointed by the king to provide solace to condemned men and grant absolution from their sins before death. This man, pointing to the hangman, is appointed by the king to administer his justice.”  


“And I would have, grumbled the hangman angrily, if this chit had not interfered. Look at her, Monseigneur, barely a woman and wanting to take to bed an enemy of her countrymen,”  


“To wed, spat out Rey, I mean to wed him!”  


“Pfft.”  


Rey, showing unmistakable signs of belligerence, took a step forward.  


“I am sure, intervened Pere Francois, raising his voice, taking unmistakable charge, that all this can be settled amicably and in proper order.”  


Turning to Rey, “Rey, my child, are you sure of the course you wish to take, after all this is all very sudden and you haven’t had time to think it through. Marry in haste, my child, repent at leisure” he chided.  


“Pere Francois, said Rey, leaving the side of the tall man and moving closer for more confidential talk, I had a vision.”  


“A vision my child?”  


“Yes, Mon Pere, I saw a future with this man – just the shape of it, but solid and clear. He will provide protection. With him I see a future and a hope.”  


“Protection, Rey?”  


“Plutt.”  


“Ah, yes, Plutt.”  


The priest took a good look at the prisoner. Ignoring the bedraggled appearance, he looked upon strong patrician features, a good strong body too, by the looks of it. Tall, exceptionally tall, no doubt trained in the art of war.  


At that thought, the priest took pause.  


“M’sieur, addressing the prisoner, do you speak French?”  


The prisoner, nodded, adding, “I do Monseigneur, not as well as you, but quite well.”  


Ah, respectful.  


“Are you a true son of the church?”  


“I can answer that for you, Monseigneur, interrupted Pere Alfonso, eager to be part of the drama; the prisoner took confession and professed his faith in God and his son Jesus Christ.”  


“So he is in a state of grace?”  


“Indeed, Monseigneur.”  


“My son, what name are you known by?”  


“My name is Kylo Ren, Monseigneur.”  


“Not a very english name.”  


“Nevertheless, it is my name, Monseigneur.”  


“So, Kylo Ren, you are in a state of grace. Therefore, here before this altar, before Christ and his angels, if you swore an oath you know you would be bound to keep it to the detriment of your place in paradise and your immortal soul?”  


Pere Francois was one of the most popular preachers in Paris and his tone of voice lent a terrible edge to his words.  


“Certainly, Monseigneur, the prisoner spoke steadily, any oath I swore before this altar, in the presence of Christ and his angels, and all those here today, I would undoubtedly keep.”  


“Then are you willing to swear a sacred oath to renounce the service of the English king and take and keep this young woman as wife, forswearing all previous oaths?”  


Kylo Ren turned toward Rey, looking deep into her eyes. She gazed back, unafraid. Kylo, a soldier and leader of men, assessed what he saw. ‘If my life were in her hands, he asked himself, would I trust her to keep it safe? If I am bound to her this day by sacred oath and in marriage, am I prepared to let the past die?’  


Unconsciously, he took both her hands. They felt so tiny in his, but there was strength there and calluses that showed her to be a hard worker. And something else ... the sense that he knew her, was in some way attached to her by an invisible cord. He’d felt, when he’d gazed at her from the scaffold, a pull, but in view of the certainty of his death that day had dismissed the yearning he suddenly felt by the light-hearted action of smiling and winking at her. Sometimes, he thought, there was more of his father in him than he was prepared to acknowledge.  


Her hazel eyes had not wavered and she was content to stand close to him without demur.  


“Yes, Monseigneur, turning to the priest, I’ll be bound to this woman by sacred oath and give her a husband’s protection.”  


“Kylo Ren, come to the altar and swear to renounce your former life and subject yourself to this woman in marriage at the peril of your immortal soul should you break it and the contempt of all men.”  


Pere Francois’s voice rang out throughout the church and all god fearing folk there instinctively crossed themselves.  


+++++  


The oath was sworn, Kylo touching the cross on the altar with one hand and holding a fragment of the True Cross in the other.  


The doors of the church were thrown open as was the custom for legal marriage.  


The joining was carried out by Pere Francois, assisted by Pere Alfonso, and in front of numerous witnesses. A shout going up as Rey was thoroughly kissed.  


There was a moment when it seemed the apprentices would carry off the newlyweds to witness the consummation of the marriage, but a shower of silver coins bestowed by Rey on the most vociferous apprentice, convinced them to repair to the nearest tavern to call a blessing on the union instead – that and being frowned down by Pere Francois.  


Pere Alfonso was thanked and a silver coin pressed into his hand to show appreciation before he too departed. (The hangman had slunk off well before the ceremony).  


Pere Francois lead the newlyweds into the sacristy to record the marriage in the register, and kept them there until the rest of the witnesses disappeared.  


+++++  


Before departing the city there had been a little difficulty between them.  


Returning to the inn where Rey had stabled her horse, Kylo had gone to do the job of harnessing it himself. Rey, thanking him, had pulled on the gear to do the job herself.  


Kylo, looking into those clear hazel eyes, detecting a tendency toward stubbornness in his new wife, suggested they do the job together. After a tense moment, this was found to be agreeable and finally they were bowling out of one of the city gates on the road to Rey’s home.  


Rey, thinking on that kiss at the altar, tried not to think about disturbances happening below her waist which had started with the kiss and were continuing – and what else would happen when they reached home.  


Kylo also thought of what would happen when they reached home.  


Of the two, his thoughts were the most tranquil.


	2. Chapter 2

_He comes and passeth through sphere after sphere;_  
_First her sheet, then her arms, then anywhere_  
_Let not this day, then, but this night be thine_ ;  
_Thy day was but the eve to this, O Valentine_

His wife had a beautiful neck. Slim and long. He wanted to touch it - to press kisses onto it. Her hair was gathered up in a white muslin scarf tied with a jaunty knot just right of her right eye. He could see she was a brunette as little wisps had escaped at the back and curls were artfully arranged at her temples. 

She was a small breasted woman; although her dress was modest he could make that out. When he had kissed her at the altar her body felt lean and taut under his hands. He thought her to be slim hipped, but he’d have to see her without her petticoats to be sure. 

Although she was tall by the standards of the day, she appeared tiny due to her small bust and waist and certainly to someone like him standing over six feet tall in his stocking feet. 

All in all he was very pleased with her. 

She was a hard worker, judging by her hands, but undoubtedly feminine. There were, however, signs that she was something more than she looked. For instance, he couldn’t think of a single woman of his acquaintance who kept a six foot quarter staff within easy reach – it was shod with iron on one end too. It resided at the moment under the seat of the cart. 

Also, although nobly born women of the day used a small crossbow to hunt; his wife had a plain version residing at her feet, cocked, with a quiver of quarrels lying beside it. He recalled overhearing the priest’s question: ‘Protection?’ and her answer: ‘Plutt.’ 

No doubt she’d tell him in good time. 

Meanwhile, he was content just to look at her. 

+++++ 

About two hours later they reached her home. It was more than he had expected. 

When she had claimed him, married him, all his thoughts had been concerned with her; what being she was, the man she would make of him having rescued him from death and the peripatetic life he’d been leading. If he’d thought about their actual dwelling, he would have thought of something modest – a cottage with a parcel of land to cultivate, and he would have been content. He had not expected a manor house, but that’s what she was pointing to as the twin towers of the gatehouse came into view. 

“Kylo, our home: Les Romarins.” 

The horse, wanting his stable, had voluntarily quickened its pace. Soon they were crossing the narrow bridge over the moat (it was a fortified manor house) passing under the gatehouse into a cobbled courtyard. 

As they pulled up, a side door to the manor opened and two young women tumbled out, laughing and calling out a greeting. Seeing him, they stood stock still, staring at him wide eyed. 

As Rey secured the reins, he jumped down and walked around the cart to help her down, his hands spanning her waist easily and holding her up high as he swung her to the ground. Her face flushed scarlet. 

Recovering, solemnly she took his hand. 

“Tallie, Rose, this is my husband, Kylo Ren, you will address him as Monseigneur.” 

Both girls immediately bobbed to him and wished him ‘Welcome Monseigneur’, keeping their eyes cast down but clearly vibrating with curiosity. 

Rey turned to him, “Monseigneur, these are my servants.” He bowed to them both. 

There were the sounds of leisurely footsteps across the yard. A young man in his early twenties came into view. He saw his wife’s lips thin, “Gilles, you took your time. Here is your new master, Monseigneur.” 

At the abrupt delivery of this news, Gilles’ face fell and he didn’t speak. 

Rey’s voice was sharp. “I don’t hear your courtesy to Monseigneur.” 

At this Gilles bobbed his head, “Welcome, Monseigneur.” 

She turned to Tallie and Rose, “Help me unload the cart, please, and, sharply to Gilles, when it’s empty stable the horse and pull the cart under shelter.” 

Gilles looked less than pleased at these orders, but, catching Ren’s eye, bobbed his head obediently. 

+++++ 

Rey and the girls started to move the packages inside, Ren carrying the larger, heavier items. 

He had to duck slightly to enter the house, but the space that opened up before him was high ceilinged. They had entered what was obviously the kitchen. His immediate sensation was the scent of dried lavender and herbs and wood smoke, then of the comforting atmosphere of the house. 

Rey patted the long table which stood in the kitchen, “Put those here, Monseigneur, please.” He obeyed. 

She disappeared into another room and returned a few moments later with a heavy looking carved chair, he moved forward to help her. She frowned momentarily then relinquished the chair to him moving to the head of the table, “Please place it here, Monseigneur.” 

As he sat, she moved off to the back of the kitchen calling out to Rose and Tallie in rapid French, disappearing through a door into what he would later learn was the pantry. She emerged moments later with a tankard of small beer – the everyday brew of the household. Rose followed with a wooden platter and knife. 

Rey set the tankard down before him, “Drink, Monseigneur, please.” The wooden platter and knife were set beside him as Rey disappeared into the pantry again. Rose caught his eye and giggled before bobbing a curtsy to him and following Rey out of the room. 

Rey reappeared with slices of bread, ham and cheese. Rose emerged carrying two stoneware pots, which he found to contain butter and quince jelly. “Eat, Monseigneur, eat,” Rey urged him. Both women disappeared into the back of the kitchen again. 

He took a pull of the beer, glad to have the refreshing draught. He buttered a slice of bread and layered it with ham and cheese, spreading over it some quince jelly. He bit into it, it was very good indeed. 

Rose re-emerged from the back quarters of the house carrying a pitcher of small beer and a small bowl filled with apples, which she set down before him. Rey emerged and started to sort out the packages, handing some to Rose. Others she disappeared with upstairs. He heard her footsteps moving about overhead. 

When she came down, she slipped onto the bench beside him. 

“Kylo, her accented English pronunciation of his name was delightful, softening the hard ‘k’, we must get you clean. Unfortunately, I don’t have clothes in the house which would fit you. But we can see to that in the days to come.” She tipped up his tankard, peering into it, and refilled it from the pitcher. 

“Kylo, our marriage is unusual, but not unheard of. What is unusual is that one such as I should have chosen to marry this way. There will be some who will not like it because of the land I hold, which now belongs to you and I. This is why I will always address you before the neighbours and my servants as Monseigneur. I will have you respected as the seigneur of Les Romarins.” 

That stubborn look was back on her face, her lips a determined pout. 

“Gilles is one who will not like our marriage. I think he hoped to be in your place. Pfft, as if I would marry such as he, but there will be others and you must not mind them Kylo. Remember, I chose you.” 

She cast down her eyes and coloured up. “Kylo, I mean to be your wife, and tonight and all the nights you will sleep with me. I hope you don’t mind being married to me, Monseigneur.” 

He looked with some disbelief into those lovely hazel eyes. Clearly she did not know how enchanting she was, oblivious to her allure. Ascribing her desirability solely to the land she held, ignorant of what a bewitching armful she would be to any rational man. 

He covered her hand with one of his own, “Wife, I shall enjoy being in your bed very much.” 

He locked his gaze with hers, “I will do my very best to ensure you enjoy it too.” 

His tone promised much of earthly delights. His wife may be an innocent, but there was no mistaking his tone. She blushed scarlet again, abruptly standing and striding once more to the back of the house, calling for Tallie and asking a question as she went. 

He adjusted himself surreptitiously. Their conversation had woken up a hidden but insistent part of him. 

+++++ 

They had set up a copper bath in the wash house. While it would be fine for the women of the house, he had to fold himself somewhat to fit in. Copper jugs with warm and cold water stood by him with soap scented with chamomile and a linen towel. It felt so good washing off the sweat and stink of the Paris jail. 

Unfortunately, he had to put his dirty clothes back on in order to walk decently through the house. 

When he walked into the kitchen Rey was waiting. Of Rose and Tallie there was no sign. 

“Come” she said, walking toward the stairs. 

He followed her up. The top of the stairs opened into a gallery with rooms opening off it. 

She turned right into a room and he entered after her. It was her ... their bedroom. 

A lovely carved half tester stood in the room, its curtains had been embroidered with flowers, birds and creatures of the forest. It was piled high with linen covered pillows and a green coloured counterpane topped the sheets and blankets. 

The windows were set high and unshuttered, candles were burning in the wall sconces - polished metal sconces to better reflect the light. 

“Please, Kylo, undress and get into bed. If you put your shirt and hose and underclothes outside the door, the girls will launder them for you.” At that she left. 

He undressed slowly, taking in the painted clothes chests that stood in the room, the pegs from which her dresses hung. He folded his shirt and hose and put them outside the door then slipped into bed naked. He heard quiet footsteps outside the door then silence. The sheets smelt of lavender, the pillows too. He gradually relaxed into the comfort of the bed - it felt as though it hugged him. 

He must have dozed off, but awoke as the bedroom door creaked open. His wife entered, her lovely chestnut hair loosened and falling to her waist. She closed the door, carefully turning the peg to secure it and moved around the bed pulling back the bedclothes her side. 

He leaned up, resting on one side facing her. She was laying out a square of white linen, blushing again when she saw understanding flash in his eyes. The cloth could be used as proof she went to her marriage bed a virgin. 

Ren knew, if the husband was careful, the loss of virginity didn’t have to be as traumatic as the good wives tales made out. He was glad he would be her first. 

She stood back from the bed and their eyes met and locked. She stilled. He left his side of the bed and walked around to her. Her eyes never left his. 

Gently, very gently, he reached out and pulled her to him. She gasped and shuddered. 

He loosed her robe and pushed it back so it pooled at her feet on the floor. 

He stepped back and drew her with him. Moving behind her, he pulled her hair aside and very gently kissed her neck, moving slowly down as she arched it under his lips. Then he blew soft breaths behind her ear and down her neck. Again she shuddered. 

“Don’t be afraid” he whispered. 

“Kylo, she murmured, I’m not afraid.” 

It took him a beat to understand her meaning. He looked into her eyes and saw, not fear, but desire. It flitted through his mind that she was a woman made for love. 

Keeping one hand between her shoulder blades, he drew the other across her belly and hip, turning her to him. His mouth descended on her breasts, as pert and lovely as he had imagined them to be. 

A quiver ran through her body and he raised his hand to assist him in the tonguing and mouthing of her breasts, cupping first one and then the other. 

Inevitably, his kisses travelled lower until he came to her sex. Both hands were now resting themselves on her slim hips and, mouthing her sex, his tongue coming into play, a deep moan came from her. He looked up, kneeling before her, one of her hands was writhing in her hair, and the back of the other was pressed against her mouth. 

He stood and picked her up, one arm under her shoulders one under her knees. He carried her to their bed and placed her on the sheet parallel to the pillows, spreading out her hair. 

The bed was built high and he intended to take her standing the first time so none of his weight would be upon her as he entered her. He hadn’t yet finished with preparing her for him. He crouched over her body, standing between her legs, and kissed her once more, moving down her neck and then to her breasts. 

He continued moving down her body and once more was tonguing her sex. 

“Kylo, she gasped, please.” 

He checked her arousal, she was ready for him. 

He took her cloth and placed it under her, drawing her to the edge of the bed to gain access to her, parting her folds with his thumbs and beginning his penetration. 

Her legs automatically moved around his waist as he crouched over her. 

As he started to push, she raised herself and pushed her palms against his thighs in a panic at what she was about to give up to him, “Non!” she cried. “I’ve got you, sweetheart” he reassured her, pushing on, bracing himself on his hands. 

He met resistance and started a rhythmic thrusting. She made a sound of pleasure – an astonished “Oh!” 

He knew he wouldn’t last long with her tightness and the length of time he’d gone without a woman, but he concentrated on keeping a rhythm until at last he needed to ejaculate. His stokes got faster, erratic. Moaning her pleasure under him, she clasped his flanks in a tight grip and he called out her name “Rey!” at the sensation her hands invoked and ejaculated. 

He lowered himself once more over her, ghosting his lips over her temples and neck murmuring “Sweetheart.” 

She was still beneath him, her posture languid, he was sure of her pleasure with him. 

Gently he disengaged from her, noting there was very little blood. What there was was pale in colour and he made sure the cloth captured all. 

He lifted her again and placed her head on the pillows, crossing the room to where a ewer and basin were. He dipped a cloth in the water and went back to the bed to clean her, tenderly pulling the covers over her and folding up the cloth. 

Walking back to the basin he cleaned himself and blew out all the candles save one as he climbed back into bed. 

He reached for her and she came to him gladly, draping herself over his chest. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart” he murmured. 

“Goodnight, Monseigneur” she whispered back. 

The room filled with blessed peace as they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the lines of poetry are by John Donne
> 
> i've based Rey's headcovering on an 18th century self portrait of Vigee le Brun - Rey being french in this fic and Daisy being so pretty ...
> 
>  
> 
> good wives: this term didn't just apply to elderly or widowed women, but to any woman whose seniority warranted it whether wife, widow or spinster - they were founts of wisdom, but also purveyors of urban myths


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song Kylo sings to Rey is from the 17th century. Olivia Chaney has a video on youtube if you'd like to hear the full version.
> 
> he sings: being with my girlfriend is so very good  
> sleeping with her is very good too!

She awoke first, before the cock crowed as was her custom. 

They had moved sleeping positions in the night, she was now laid on her back and he on his stomach. One of his arms was laid over her and she found her hands were clasping his bicep and forearm. 

She laid there, limbs languorous and heavy. She hardly knew herself. 

Last night had just been so much more than she expected. She had listened to the gossip of the married women and the good wives over the years and formed an opinion that the first night was something to be both feared and endured, but this man, her husband, had given her pleasure. 

At that thought, she wondered if she had done wrong. Was she secretly a wanton? She sent up a quick prayer promising not to enjoy it so much next time. 

Her mind drifted back to the fascinating subject of her husband. 

Truly, she had never felt attraction for any other man, but the moment she had seen him on the scaffold she had felt a strong pull of interest in him. 

At the altar, when he had taken her in his arms and soundly kissed her, she had felt desire; a wetness that had jolted out of her as those pouty lips met hers, right there in the church – a sacred place. She nibbled her bottom lip in worry and sent up another prayer – one of apology. 

Then last night; Oh, his hands! His lips! That wicked tongue! She felt her stomach clench and the now familiar contraction lower down along with the wetness. 

There had been a moment when she had tried to push him away, frightened at the base thing they were about to sacrifice her virginity for, but then had come _that_ feeling and soon she just didn’t want him to stop. Not ever. 

She contemplated the organ of pleasure her husband was blessed with. Of course she had no reference point, but it had seemed lavish in its size. She had done her best to keep her eyes fixed on Kylo’s face, but she couldn’t help notice how it seemed to grow exponentially as he had explored her body with hands, lips and tongue. In fact, it still felt as though it was in her. Would she fit only him now? 

She would have to get out of this bed or she would wake him and ask him to do it all again and were then would the household be? 

She cautiously slipped out from under his arm. He made a sound of dissatisfaction and turned to hug his pillow. Hardly daring to breathe she left the bed, feeling bereft as she did so. 

She relieved herself in the copper can by the washstand and although there was a sting, peeing too was pleasurable. What a revelation this all was! 

She looked again at the bed and made a little moue of dissatisfaction that she couldn’t lay in bed all day with her husband. 

She forced her heavy limbs to wash and dress, suddenly very aware of her breasts as she fastened her leather stays over her chemise. There was another revelation; her husband had gotten sensations out of her breasts she had never dreamed possible. She had always understood they were there to feed her babies, now she regarded them in quite a different light. 

She nibbled at a fingernail. Just how much should she confide in Pere Antoine when she next went to confession? Sighing, she resolved to make it a matter of prayer. 

She pulled on a blue patterned skirt over her petticoat and decided to put on her stockings and tie her garters downstairs so as not to disturb Kylo. 

She took another regretful look at her sleeping husband and quietly left the room. 

+++++ 

She was fastening the scarf around her hair when she heard the sounds of Rose and Tallie moving about in the kitchen. 

Entering the kitchen, she wished them both a whispered good morning. 

“Where are the shirt and hose of Monseigneur?” 

Rose brought them out, together with his tunic and shoes, clean and folded. 

She touched them. No sign of dampness. 

“I will take them up to Monseigneur, she said. Prepare breakfast, but quietly, Monseigneur still sleeps.” 

Rose and Tallie exchanged sly glances. 

She saw the looks. “Allez, allez, she scolded, must I wait all day?” 

Really, these young girls! (Rey was just nineteen). 

+++++ 

By the time Kylo woke the household was bustling with activity. 

The bread was on its second proving, the pig fed, the bread oven lit and the cow milked. Rey had sent word to a haberdasher in Paris via the carrier, who passed the house at regular times during the week, to order hose for her husband. Linen and fine wool fabric had been unearthed to make shirts for Kylo. The chickens had been released from their overnight captivity and were scratching around in the garden and orchard and the geese and ducks had once more taken possession of the moat and grass of the manor. 

Of Gilles there was no sign. He seemed to have moved out overnight with bag and baggage. 

Rey made a rude noise when the girls told her. She suspected he knew he would have to work harder under Kylo, plus any pretensions he had toward her were well and truly at an end. 

She was holding forth on the despised Gilles’ unreliability when her husband walked into the room. 

She just stopped mid sentence and blushed deeply. Tallie tapped Rose’s foot under the table and both cupped a hand to their mouths to hide their giggles. Their usually unflappable mistress was acting very strangely. 

“Monseigneur, she stammered, as her tall husband advanced toward her, did you sleep well?” 

It suddenly occurred to her that if anyone knew how well he slept it would be her. He answered her with a wide grin, showing crooked teeth and dimples. Rose and Tallie’s giggles could no longer be contained. 

She rounded on the girls “You two, where is the breakfast for Monseigneur? Why do you make him wait? 

The two girls got up in haste, but before they could move their new master had swept up their mistress in a rib crushing hug and was planting a smacking kiss on her lips. 

She emerged from his embrace flustered and with her hair escaping from her scarf. Rose and Tallie stared round eyed as he released her to land a smack on her bottom. Their mistress’s décolletage was now as flushed as her face. He sat down in his chair, pulling her onto his knee and wrapping his long arms around her. 

“Good morrow, wife, and as you know, I slept very well – eventually.” 

The latter was said for the benefit of the girls and he glanced at them, his eyes laughing. 

“Well, did you not hear your mistress? Am I to starve?” 

At once the girls headed for the pantry chattering to each other and breaking into giggles. 

His wife spoke into his neck “Monseigneur, how am I supposed to keep order when you act like this in front of our servants.” 

He pried her from his neck “Sweetheart, we’ll keep order and I’ll kiss you anytime I please.” 

She gave up, accepting his kisses once more. 

+++++ 

Kylo had woken feeling better about himself than he had in a long while. The events of the previous night came flooding back and he looked for his wife. He felt a twinge of disappointment that she had not remained beside him and, momentarily, fear that he had disappointed her with his lovemaking. This he dismissed, no, he was sure her first time had been enjoyable. 

Last night, with her invitation to share her bed that night and all the nights, he had felt genuine desire for the first time in a long while. As they had stood at the altar rail at L’Eglise du Sacre-Coeur, he had determined to let the past die and submit to this tiny woman with a spine of steel. When she told him last night she would have him as husband and master, he’d had a yearning to belong to her in every way possible. 

Thinking on his wife filled him with an overwhelming desire to find her, to hold her, to kiss her, wrap his arms around her. He left the bed to do just that. 

He could hear her voice as he headed down the stairs. Someone had displeased her and she was holding forth on this person’s many and manifest faults. As he entered the kitchen she stopped speaking mid sentence and just looked at him. He felt joy, happiness, contentment – all the positive emotions - flood through him at the sight of her and he just had to get her in his arms and kiss her. 

She tried to resist, conscious of an audience in the two girls, but he wasn’t having it. He would share this feeling of intense joy with her whether she would or not, before the whole world. Eventually, she subsided into his arms and returned his kisses. Maker was she sweet to kiss! 

+++++ 

She remained in his arms as he ate his breakfast. His body was so relaxed against hers she felt herself softening her posture to match him, what were the cares of the day compared to his embrace? 

This close, she could better examine his features. His eyes were the colour of fine cognac, deep dark amber. When they looked at her they held a soft, warm expression. Pretty, she thought, pretty eyes. 

His skin was pale, even though she knew his former occupation kept him outdoors. Moles and beauty marks dotted his long face. The nose was very present – patrician, but it was his lips and eyes which dominated. Those plush red lips which were currently distracting her and leading her thoughts back to bed and what they could do there. 

It passed through her mind, how could a man who earned his living as a dog of war be this tactile and loving? 

Eventually, French practicality won out over English romanticism - someone had to take charge of the day! 

“Kylo, she murmured, kissing him behind his ear, if you have finished breakfast, I would like to show you Les Romarins. 

+++++ 

The demesne of Les Romarins in its entirety occupied just over 3,500 acres, too much to walk in one day, especially after such a late start. She showed him the outbuildings, which were separate from the manor house, and the walled kitchen garden, the orchard and the lavender field. 

“The problem I have, Kylo, she explained, is that the land is not utilised enough. Only a small portion is cultivated, I make most of the money from oils, cosmetics and produce. It pays for Les Romarins, but not enough to make improvements or to save. Being so close to Paris and its hungry mouths, if we could get more land under the plough to grow barley, rye and wheat, it would be bought up whilst still in the field.” 

She pulled on her lower lip. He realised something was troubling her and took her hand, kissing her softly. 

“So what has stopped you?” 

She met his concerned gaze “Plutt.” 

Ah, here it was. 

“Who is this person, sweetheart, who stops you developing Les Romarins?” 

“Kylo, he is the most disgusting person ever.” Her lips were quivering now and her gaze was fiery. 

“Four wives he has killed, through cruelty and the exercise of his base desires. He sought to make me the fifth.” 

She looked at him. His jaw was working and his eyes looked black. 

“I could not bring in help in case they were secretly Plutt’s men. Three times he has attempted to kidnap me to force me to marry him, or do worse so that I must marry him.” 

She stole a look at her husband, and looked away quickly, his expression was murderous. 

“The last time he tried I shot him in the shoulder. The wound became infected and he has been confined to his property, otherwise I could not have visited Paris and met you.” 

“Were no charges pressed against you?” 

“No, Kylo, he dares not. I am under the protection of Bishop Lor San Tekka and he threatened Plutt with excommunication after the second time he tried to abduct me. He dare not let it be known he disobeyed the bishop. The bishop is my uncle, so for a certainty he would make life very difficult for Plutt, but at the end of it he would have me and Les Romarins which is why he took the risk. 

Blackness descended upon his heart. So, that’s why she had redeemed him. Kill Plutt for her, pay the penalty for murder, she was free to marry whom she wished. Of course, why would his life be any different from what it had been? He, fool that he was, had believed her promises. Best get on with it then. 

“You need me to kill him.” 

He spoke tonelessly, but she caught the inflection. 

She looked at him and saw the darkness in him reflected in his eyes. 

“No, no, Monseigneur that was not my vision. Kylo, I want to be your wife and raise children and live here at Les Romarins and prosper. Besides, I could have killed him myself – I aimed at his shoulder – if I wanted to.” 

Taking his hand and speaking passionately “Do not think I married you because you know war, no, never that. You are the only man I ever wanted to marry. Others, beside Plutt have wanted me, and they would have been honourable marriages, but only you have made the juices flow so that I wanted to.” 

She clapped a hand to her mouth, the last statement had been a thought not meant to be expressed. 

He was laughing and his eyes reflected the colour of cognac again. 

“So, wife, tell me of these juices.” 

She turned and began to run back to the house, scarlet cheeked and mortified by her acknowledgement of her lustful feelings for him. 

He caught her easily. 

He turned toward the walled garden, carrying her in his arms. 

“You know, I saw a bothy in the corner of the garden. I suddenly want to see inside it.” 

She took his meaning and was scandalised. 

“Kylo, please, not there. The girls ... anyone! Oh, why is this happening?” 

He ignored her and started to softly sing as his long legs covered the ground toward the garden gates: 

_Aupres de ma blonde_

_Qu’il fait bon, fait bon, fait bon_

_Aupres de ma blonde_

_Qu’il fait bon dormir_! 

She twined her arms around his neck and shoulder, laying her head against his chest. 

He looked down at her lovingly. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve got this.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medieval AU 
> 
> It’s been three weeks. Three weeks of marriage, lovemaking and sharing Les Romarins with her husband. 
> 
> Marriage suits them both. They both like belonging to each other and she feels joy every time she looks at him. She has grown more tactile over the weeks - it’s hard to be anything else married to a man who loves to touch her.

It’s been three weeks. Three weeks of marriage, lovemaking and sharing Les Romarins with her husband. 

Marriage suits them both. They both like belonging to each other and she feels joy every time she looks at him. She has grown more tactile over the weeks - it’s hard to be anything else married to a man who loves to touch her. 

She finds he likes to casually hold her by the hips, touch and press kisses to her neck, busses her on his way out the door, and when it’s time for bed there’s not a part of her body he doesn’t explore. 

His lovemaking has become more ardent and she realises how much he held back at first. He’s still careful with her, but definitely is more demanding of her body. She loves every second spent with him in bed. 

She’s a little disappointed not to be pregnant, her menses came shortly after her wedding night. Still, they have time. 

After their initial conversation, they walk Les Romarins every day and they start to plan out the changes they will make so they can add their legacy to the property. 

They need to go visit her uncle Lor San Tekka soon at his palace in Theed. She has written to him to tell him of her marriage and he has replied with a date to visit him. 

She knows it’s important he likes Kylo. 

Before they can make the visit, they have an unexpected visitor. She’s not sure even now whether it’s for the good or not. 

+++++ 

Kylo was tending to the horse and she’d just started a wash when Tallie and Rose came running in breathless and alarmed. 

“Madame, Madame, a man is coming with horses and dogs and a sword.” 

There’s no time for further explanation. She dried her hands on her apron and reached for her crossbow “Can you get to Monseigneur?” 

“We’ll try, Madame.” 

It’s too late. The man is almost at the end of the bridge. He’s astride a destrier and Rey knows from the quality of the horse and his golden spurs he is a knight. 

She has the crossbow cocked and a quarrel ready as he reaches the end of the bridge. He dismounts and leashes the two dogs that apparently have run free up until now. They are hunting dogs she believes. She doesn’t recognise the breed. 

“Good morrow” calls the man and, immediately, she knows he’s English. She has heard her husband give a similar greeting. 

“May I approach, Madame?” 

His french is good, but she recognises the faint accent. 

“No, M’sieur, she calls, stay there and state your business.” 

Then to the two girls “Get ready to close the gates.” They move to stand by each gate. 

The man is not pleased at his reception, but complies. 

“Madame, I am looking for the property of Les Romarins.” 

“You have found it, M’sieur.” 

He looks pleased. 

“Then I would like to speak with Kylo Ren.” 

Cold fear grips her heart. Her husband is unarmed and the stranger has a sword at his side and the two hounds. 

“I know of no such person, M’sieur.” 

He looks at her through narrowed eyes. 

“I am of course desolate, Madame, to doubt your word, but I have it on good authority he was married in Paris some three weeks ago and resides here with his new wife.” 

She feels anguish in her heart that she cannot get a weapon to Kylo. Why would this stranger go to so much trouble to find her husband? Given Kylo’s previous occupation, she assumes the worst. 

“M’sieur, I am mistress here, and I assure you, I know of no such marriage and no such person. I request you leave Les Romarins immediately.” 

Before he can reply, both dogs spring to attention whining loudly. Both she and the knight look to where they are straining and there is Kylo coming from the yard. She wants to scream and starts running across the bridge to fire at least one bolt before attacking. 

The man stoops and unleashes the dogs who are now giving tongue and she does scream. They bound forward, the clamour of their baying rising. They are in full hunt. She will kill this stranger. 

She reaches the knight and catching him off guard hits him. The blow is true, across the head with the crossbow, and considerable. He staggers. She goes in for the kill with the quarrel, meaning to jab him in the throat. 

This man is no Plutt though, and his reflexes are fast. She almost makes contact but his hands grip her wrist and he twists. Pain shoots through her arm but she doesn’t let go of the bolt. 

She’s put sabots on to do the washing and she kicks him hard with the wooden shoe. He gasps and slackens his hold. She brings the crossbow back up and hits his shoulder hard. He grabs that wrist too and she kicks again at his shins, pushing him into the horses. 

He staggers back into his horse, which rears into the other two mounts and she uses her weight to bring him down – hooking a foot behind his leg, making sure her knee makes contact with his groin as they go down. 

He grunts with the pain and let go her wrists, putting a hand out to push against his horse’s leg which threatens to trample him. 

She springs to her feet and moves back. The crossbow is still cocked and she goes to insert the quarrel and end him. 

Two big hands come around her body and remove the bolt and bow from her grasp. 

“Monseigneur” she gasps, turning into her husband’s body. 

His arms enfold her and she hears him say in English, laughter evident in his voice, “Good morrow, Finn. I see you’ve met the missus!” 

+++++ 

All is chaos. She is crying. The girls are crying, clinging to each other, for some reason Tallie is clutching Rey’s staff. 

The dogs are romping around Kylo, delirious to be reunited with their master. 

The horses need settling and Finn, although in pain, is on his feet and moving to quiet them. 

Kylo lets her go, calls the dogs to heel and goes to assist quieting the horses. 

As they head toward the yard with them, she takes the girls back into the house and together they sit in the kitchen snivelling and wiping their noses. 

Still sniffing and snivelling, Rey goes out to the pantry and returns with wine beakers. She then brings out a pitcher of water and a pitcher of wine. Carefully, she makes the girls a half and half mixture of water and wine and pours one neat for herself. 

The hands of the three of them are still shaking and they sip the wine slowly, feeling its warmth calm them down. 

Eventually, her husband returns with the two dogs and Finn in tow. The dogs are determined not to leave Kylo and press their bodies close to his legs. This makes his greeting difficult, but he manages to embrace her and fondle his dogs’ heads and ears. 

Finn is still limping and eyes her warily. Kylo sees and laughs. 

“Sweetheart, this is my companion in arms Finn Neville - Finn, my wife Rey.” 

They nod to each other and her grip on Kylo tightens. She wants to get him alone and remind him of his oath before the altar of Sacre-Coeur. She is sure this man has come to take her husband away from her. 

+++++ 

Finn will stay, at least for a little while. She remembers her oath that Kylo is also Master of Les Romarins as well as her husband and just nods, but her vey silence alerts him to her unhappiness. 

They sit down to eat the Poule au Pot which has been cooking in the bread oven since early morning. It stretches to feed Finn also, with an accompanying salad and bread. Then they have cheese and fresh fruit. She picks listlessly at her food. 

She and the girls leave the men to talk, and clear away dinner. They go to the north tower of the gatehouse with bedding and a broom and prepare it for Finn to occupy. 

She tells the girls to rest and goes to finish off the washing, taking out her worry on the clothes in the tub - the water now cold. She must be patient, she thinks, holding on to the memory of her vision. She thinks her husband is an honourable man, but doesn’t know the influence this Finn may have over him. 

After all, the man she calls her husband may have another woman who has sent Finn to find him. She’s spiralling, she has to get control of her thoughts, but even after only three weeks she’s sure Kylo is the only man who will ever know her, and she would search heaven and earth for him if he went missing. She just wants to find a quiet place and sob. 

As she blocks and lays out the laundry to dry heavy footsteps inform her that her husband has come to find her. 

He takes one look at her pinched, worried face and sweeps her up, carrying her into the courtyard and sitting down on a bench with her on his knee, clasped close to his chest. 

“Finn and I go back to childhood,” he tells her. 

“His mother was a princess from the Levant; his father met and married her there. He brought her home to England, but she, poor lady, could not adjust to the damp winters and died not long after Finn was born.” 

“His father remarried and fathered a second son. This woman wanted the inheritance for her son – Finn is heir to an earldom.” 

She looks a question. 

“He’s a Comte.” 

She nods. 

“The earldom is a significant one politically, and a wealthy one. When Finn’s father died, this lady used her influence at court and her power over her dying husband to disinherit Finn. You have to know, wifey, the reason men like Finn and I stayed in France and did not go home with the English king is because we have nothing to go back to.” 

He presses a kiss to her lips. 

“That life was not what I wanted, but until you redeemed me, it was the only one I had.” 

He draws in a breath “I was good at it, until the ambush which captured me.” 

“Finn is here because of friendship. He searched and found me because of friendship. He’s brought my belongings with him. He has not come to take me back with him. If he had, I would not go. I made an oath that I wouldn’t and I won’t.” 

She burst into passionate weeping. 

He rocked her against him as though she was a child, murmuring all the while “I’ve got you sweetheart.” 

+++++ 

She feels better after their talk but physically drained. He carries her to their room and settles her down to nap. He stays with her whilst she falls asleep, gently stroking her hair. 

He thinks about the unexpected events of that morning and replays coming out of the yard and seeing the two hounds bounding toward him, their plangent voices calling to him joyfully. He can hardly believe he’s not dreaming. As they leap up, he braces his body against their combined weight of about 140 pounds. 

He hears a scream and looks across to see his wife’s aggressive attack on Finn. 

As he starts to run toward her, calling his dogs to heel, he can’t help but be impressed at her technique, though worried for her safety. One on one she would not hold her own, but she’s crowding Finn against the horses and the melee is favouring her as she manages to remain on top. 

When he sees her go load the bolt into the crossbow, he knows Finn is moments from death. Thankfully, he reaches her in time and disarms her. 

In spite of everything, his sense of humour asserts itself and he greets Finn, adding ‘I see you’ve met the missus.’ He laughs softly again at the memory and looks down at his sleeping wife. 

If he’d ever doubted her commitment to him, today’s events are proof positive that she is very much his wife and his safekeeping is a priority with her. Who taught her the use of arms and to fight though, he wonders, and why? Whoever it was, they were obviously highly skilled themselves. 

He thinks over the women he has known in his life and none compares to his wife, and no woman has ever put him first the way she has. What does she see in him that she took a risk redeeming him? He probably will never know or understand. 

Her mixture of passion and prudery intrigue him. He stands by his first impression that she was made for love. When he’d taken her in the bothy, it was intoxicating to see her features soften as she reached orgasm and to hear her cry out his name as she clung to him, hands fisted in his hair; as responsive and as wanton as any man could wish from a wife. He hopes that one day she’ll initiate the act of love between them. 

Meanwhile, it does something to him to know that no other lips have claimed hers and no other lover has seen her come undone beneath them. He’s content to hold back his passion for her too. His previous lovers have all been skilled and could accommodate his size. He doesn’t want his young bride to have a horror of him, but one day, he hopes, she’ll use him as she will. 

He hears a soft scratching at the door and a low whine – his dogs have found him. He gets off the bed and lets them in. Getting back on the bed the hounds leap up too. He hopes Rey doesn’t scold when she wakes. They are used to sleeping with him. 

Beru heads straight for Rey, stretching out beside her. Bail squeezes in between him and Beru, wriggling on his back both in submission and because he loves to have his chest rubbed. Rey moves in her sleep and cradles Beru’s head, her arm curling around the dog’s neck, her other arm encompasses Beru’s back and flank. 

He lies back on the pillow. His wife’s soft snoring and the sonorous breathing of his dogs lull him and he follows them into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ma pauvre = my poor (girl)  
> les convenances = the social mores
> 
> Rey sings that she is singing for the girls who have no husbands  
> she has one and he's gorgeous!

Two days after Finn’s arrival there are intimations of the sort of difficulties he could cause in the household. 

She had reminded Tallie and Rose that tomorrow they would be travelling to Theed to visit the bishop’s palace. Instead of the usual excitement a visit to Theed would engender, there was a sullen expression on Rose’s face and such a sly one on Tallie’s she was reminded of a cat that had been at the cream. 

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the girls. 

“What’s going on with you two?” she demanded. 

Rose stayed sullen and silent, but Tallie piped up with studied innocence. 

“Nothing Madame, but I was thinking maybe I ought to stay at Les Romarins in case M’sieur Finn needs assistance.” 

“Really, said Rey, let me be clear, we will all be going to Theed tomorrow I am quite determined on it.” 

Tallie’s face fell and Rose wore a smug look. 

“Further, continued Rey, no-one will be assisting M’sieur Finn with anything and no-one is to go anywhere near M’sieur Finn’s quarters without myself or Monseigneur accompanying them. Do you hear me?” 

Her tone was fierce and both girls answered meekly ‘Yes Madame’ cowed by her potential for anger. 

Since the incident on the bridge, both girls had added healthy awe to their opinion of their mistress, in addition to the respect they already felt. They would not wilfully cross her. 

Rey stomped off to the dairy room – where she makes cheese and churns butter – clattering and banging the copper and steel utensils to no purpose, the better to express her feelings. 

Thank goodness both girls were from good families and innocents, because Tallie’s attempt at deception had been crude, if well thought out. Rose’s sister, Paige, was in service at the bishop’s palace and she would not easily forego a visit to the sister she loved so deeply and saw so little. Tallie had sought to exploit that in order to be alone with Finn. 

She was aware the open affection Kylo displayed to her in front of them may have unsettled the girls minds as she had at first feared. Finn, a personable older man would undoubtedly be an object of interest and curiosity to them, and of potential romantic fantasies. 

She picked up a broom and started to sweep an already spotless passageway banging the broom against every surface which would render a satisfyingly vicious sound. 

She was still indulging herself in this manner when her husband found her. 

In the short while they had been married, Kylo had seen an expression on his wife’s face of which she was completely unaware but meant she was less than pleased about something. It could be interpreted as anger, impatience or disappointment. It was manifested by certain stillness in her face, a compression of her lips and eyes that cast a death stare. It was unmistakable. 

He had first seen it when she bandied words with the man who had wanted to hang him, he had seen it on occasion when one or other of the girls had displeased her. More recently, every time she looked at Finn. She was wearing it now. Judging by the way she was wielding the broom, he was guessing it betokened anger – hopefully not toward him. 

Normally, he would have caught her up in his arms and stolen a deep and passionate kiss. Three weeks’ marriage had taught him caution when she was wearing that face. 

Fortunately, the dogs were with him and Beru bounded up to her closely followed by Bail, both making low sounds in their throats indicative of their pleasure in her company, bodies writhing and tails wagging. She responded automatically to the dogs overtures, rubbing behind their ears, cooing their names and asking them how they were and what they had been doing, her voice pitched high as though addressing a baby. 

He risked sidling up to her, one arm encircling her waist and planting a chaste kiss on one cheek. She submitted, huffing a little. He inferred her mood had something to do with him, but he was not the cause. Proceed cautiously then. 

“Good morrow, wifey.” She made a moue of dissatisfaction. 

Ah. 

“I was just about to move the horses into the meadow, would you like to come?” 

She thought for a little while before nodding assent. 

As they passed under the gatehouse, he saw her cast a look of loathing at the north tower. 

Ah! 

The dogs anticipated their direction and went casting about, picking up on each new and interesting scent. He’d taken them hunting, along with Finn. The household couldn’t sustain the expense of feeding them and they’d gone to the woods belonging to Les Romarins to hunt wild boar. He’d noticed that the trees needed attention. There was fine timber there, but it was showing signs of neglect and overgrowth. It needed management. 

He had presented his wife with a cut of meat which was currently marinating in red wine and herbs – she would cook civet of boar when they returned from Theed. 

He crooked his elbow and she slipped her arm in his, winding her other arm around his bicep and leaning into him, pressing close. 

“Are the girls looking forward to visiting Theed?” 

She stood straight and huffed. 

He waited patiently, but no answer was given so he kept silent. 

They had reached the yard by this time and he picked up the halters for the horses. 

Again, the extra horses would put a strain on Les Romarins resources. They’d agreed to use the meadow which was meant for haymaking and buy in for the winter if Finn’s horses were still stabled with them. There was no question of parting with his horse, Silencer. 

Finn had brought part of his prize money with him and he had reimbursed his wife for the extra expenses she’d incurred because of him. He’d wanted to give her more, but she told him they mustn’t be extravagant and she would change the gold he had given her for silver with the bishop’s treasurer. ‘Best be discreet, Kylo, she told him. We do not keep our secrets long here.’ The rest of the gold had been locked away in the house treasure chest behind one of the few doors which had a lock. 

She was holding Finn’s horses and he brought out Silencer. Both dogs ran up stretching their noses toward the big horse, which lowered his massive head flaring his nostrils and exchanging soft breaths with them, whickering. 

The horses kicked up their heels once they had the grass under their feet. Even the gelding who pulled the cart romped with the two warhorses and Finn’s rouncey. Twice they circled the meadow, the impact of their hooves drawing thunder from the earth, tails streaming behind them like banners. Gradually, the bucking and preening ceased and they got down to the serious business of grazing. 

Rey had clapped her hands and laughed delightedly at the horses’ antics and Kylo took the opportunity to press her to him, his arms winding around her stomach and waist pressing kisses to her neck and nibbling at her ear. She relaxed into him enjoying his touch. 

“Did something happen this morning?” 

He felt her tense and then relax, gently swaying against him within his arms. 

She let out a sigh. “I believe Tallie and Rose have a romantic interest in Finn and it’s turning them into rivals. Tallie tried to get permission to stay behind tomorrow in case Finn needed her! She did it with craftiness too, knowing Rose would not willingly forgo a visit to her sister so she’d be alone with him. Oh, Monseigneur, I can see problems between those two girls. I have made it clear we are all going to Theed tomorrow and both of them are forbidden to enter his quarters without either one of us.” 

She turned in his arms. “Monseigneur, they see us, I believe, how close we are, and they are interested to have the same themselves. _Vraiment_ , it is very difficult.” 

“I’ll speak with Finn, put him on his guard, but to be honest I believe he will look higher for a wife and he’s not one to seduce virgins. The girls are safe.” 

“But will they still be friends? I fear not and that means unhappiness at Les Romarins. I don’t want to part with either of them, if I took on a new girl, the same problems. My poor head.” 

“ _Ma pauvre_ , he murmured, it will all come out in the wash. We’ll just have to manage the girls.” 

“What does that even mean?” she demanded. 

He laughed. “It will work out right in the end.” 

“Men, she uttered. Well, when they start clawing at each other, I’ll send you to speak with them, two weeping angry girls fighting over one man.” 

He laughed once more. 

She remained clasped in his arms, content to be close to him, listening to the sounds of nature around them, enjoying the warmth of the sun, feeling the strength in his arms, the rise and fall of his chest. 

She closed her eyes and sighed. 

“What’s up?” 

“Nothing, I’m just enjoying the feel of you and the peace of Les Romarins.” 

He rumbled something she couldn’t decipher. Maybe he felt content too. 

“Kylo ...” 

“Hello.” 

She nipped him, “Be serious.” 

She felt the rumble of his laughter. Provoking man! She tried again. 

“What was your life like before me, before Les Romarins?” 

He was quiet for so long she thought he hadn’t heard or wouldn’t answer. She tightened her arms around him. 

At last he spoke. “It is difficult to describe. You are such an innocent, my love, and there are things I regret doing which may change your opinion of me if I tell them. Let me just say that the nature of the life I led left me empty inside. I had no real purpose in life, just drifting.” 

She tilted her head to look at him. His eyes had a faraway look – looking back at the past with no enjoyment going by his face, and many, many regrets, “And now?” 

“And now I’m married to a fierce little woman of whom I’m terrified and must do whatever she tells me!” 

“Ah, bah, but not, I think, unhappy, _hein_?” 

“No, not unhappy. For the first time in a long while I feel I belong somewhere and to someone, and let me tell you, sweetheart, that’s a very good feeling.” 

He pressed a kiss to her lips. 

She decided to share. 

“That day in the square, I meant to pass through quickly, I have no love for such spectacles, but something made me look at you, seemed to pull me toward you. I had a vision that day, Kylo, of you and I here at Les Romarins. We were happy and we had children together, and it was so solid and clear I knew I had to fight for you - that somehow you were my future.” 

He tilted up her face toward him. She could see he was much moved by her words, his jaw was working, a mannerism peculiar to him, and his eyes had moistened. 

“Then, sweetheart, you truly have redeemed me for no-one before you ever fought for me or wanted me other than to use me.” 

She was caught in another crushing embrace and felt the salt from his tears in her mouth. 

“Hush, she whispered, I’ve got you.” 

They stood there, clinging together, recovering from the deep emotion their words had stirred in each other. 

She decided to lighten the mood. 

“Kylo, she murmured, you know the garden is closer to us than the house?” 

He looked at her puzzled. Then a truly wicked grin broke across his face. 

“Why, wifey, are you asking for a look inside the bothy again?” 

“Perhaps, she demurred, but look I’m not made of glass, _hein_?” 

He swept her off her feet. 

“Wifey, you may live to regret that remark.” 

She met his gaze limpidly and said demurely “I hope so.” +++++ 

Finn strolled toward the stockyard to meet Kylo, who’d gone ahead to turn out the horses. As he approached the yard he saw that the horses were already turned out, methodically grazing the lush grass with no sight of his friend. 

Wandering into the enclosed yard, he called out his friend’s name. No answering call came and he wandered around the stalls and outbuildings, finding them empty. 

He decided to check the garden as he was sure Kylo wasn’t at the house. 

Wandering through the garden gates, he found the garden empty too and was about to turn away when he spotted Kylo’s dogs lying in front of a small hut in a far corner of the garden, eyes glued on the door. 

He walked toward them and they, becoming aware of his presence, turned their heads briefly toward him, tails thumping the ground in greeting, before returning to their contemplation of the bothy door. 

As he walked toward where the dogs lay, a thought occurred to him. Although it’s only two days since he arrived, it’s time enough to realise Kylo is deeply in love with his wife, evinced by the way he looks at her and his almost constant need to touch her, whether it’s hands lightly touching her hips as he passes by her or arms wrapped tightly around her kissing her fully on the lips. 

Finn has seen Kylo with past lovers, but never has he seen him like this. With them he was possessive for sure, but an ‘I won’t share’ sort of possessiveness, never any outward signs of affection in company - a glance, a touch, a kiss. He’s also aware that the affairs don’t last long. His friend was callous about his lovers, casting them off as soon as he was sated or they became too clingy, whichever came first. 

To his knowledge, Finn has never seen his friend wear his heart so visibly on his sleeve. In his present state, he would bet his horses that ‘the missus’ is in that hut too. 

His face broke into a grin as he turned away and lay down to wait on the grass verge outside the garden gates. 

There’s another thing, although she openly defers to him, even calling him her ‘Monseigneur’, Finn would take all bets that if it came to it, his friend would be the first to back down in a contest of wills - Kylo Ren, who never gave ground, ever! He’s never seen anyone so willing to be ruled by a woman as his childhood friend – by a sun-kissed scrap of a girl at that. 

He thought back to how she attacked him, believing he meant to harm Kylo. What a scrapper! With any other woman he would expect biting and scratching, not a woman trying to end him with a crossbow bolt after having tried to get his horse trample him to death. 

He’d said as much to Kylo and his friend just gave a goofy grin and an ‘I know, she’s something else isn’t she?’ Finn feels that’s understating things. 

It’s a long time since he’s seen his friend so light-hearted, thinking right back to their teen years, before Kylo’s duplicitous uncle and ambitious mother wrecked their lives forever. He shakes off the residual anger such memories stir in him. 

Lying back, hands behind his head, basking in the sunshine, he wonders if there’s a good woman out there for him. If she makes him half as happy and content as Kylo he muses, he will feel himself well blessed. 

He hears barking coming from the garden and shortly the dogs bound out, veering off to pay him a quick courtesy and then leaping the hurdle which acts as a gate to the meadow, heading for Silencer who raises his head and suffers with benign patience their boisterous greeting. 

Wait! Is that singing? He hears his friend’s baritone: 

_Aupres de ma blonde, qu’il fait bon fait bon fait bon_

_Aupres de ma blonde qu’il fait bon dormir_! 

Then a woman’s laughter as she answers with a sweet soprano: 

_Qui chante pour les filles qui n’ont pas de mari_

_Pour moi chante guere, car j’en ai un joli_! 

They emerge from the garden arm in arm, eyes bright and turned toward one another. 

On seeing Finn, Rey flushed scarlet. At some point her scarf must have been removed from her hair because, instead of her usual demure but fetching head covering, someone has twisted the scarf through her glorious chestnut hair, binding it up but leaving the shiny glowing mane visible to all who care to look. 

Both of them have swollen reddened lips. 

Kylo is relaxed and widens his grin at seeing his friend, tightening his hold on his wife so she can’t bolt for the house as she clearly wants to. 

“Good morrow” Kylo greets him. 

“Good morrow, returned Finn, I came down to help with the horses, but I see you already got the job done.” He blushed, too late realising the possible double entendre. 

Kylo laughed and planted a kiss on his wife’s forehead squeezing her even tighter, double entendre noted. 

“Well, Finn stammered, I thought we might go out with the dogs again. See what game there is to be had.” 

Kylo nodded, casting around to find his dogs. He saw them gambolling in the meadow. Silencer is unperturbed by their antics, but the other horses are showing nerves. Finn’s warhorse looks as though he’s going to get aggressive with them. 

“Oi, you two, Kylo yells, why must I wait?” he followed through with a piercing whistle. Both dogs freeze from their game, heads going up in inquiry. Kylo whistles again, and they come at the run easily leaping the hurdle again. 

“You’re right, Finn, these two need to work and blow off some steam.” He calls the dogs to heel and they subsided at his feet. 

“Come, sweetheart, I’ll walk you back to the house.” 

Ignoring his wife’s indignant assurance that she can find her own way home thank you very much, he settled his arm around her waist pulling her into him still protesting. Finn fell in beside them. It’s impossible to be embarrassed by their easy intimacy he thought, unless one is a diehard prude, as it falls so naturally to them. Well, maybe Rey still has regard for _les convenances_ , Kylo not so much. 

Rey safely returned to her domain, Kylo borrows her crossbow and quarrels, a last squeeze and kiss for her and then Finn and he set off, dogs in tow. 

Finn eyes his friend as they walk. He looks as happy as he’s ever seen him, harking back once more to childhood memories, happier than then even, softly humming that tune. 

“Kylo, he began nervously, are you really going to keep your oath and make a go of this?” 

His friend turned to him, surprise at the question evident on his face. 

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” 

“She must mean a lot to you then.” 

His friend stared at him, taken aback by his comment. 

“Have you not eyes to see, he questioned, she’s everything.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Great Pestilence the bishop refers to is known to modern readers as The Black Death.
> 
> Between 1348-1350 it manifested itself in Europe and wiped out a third of the population of England and France.
> 
> It was so virulent, hostilities between the Capetian King of England and the Valois King of France over the right to the French throne had to be suspended as neither could field a full army. It returned spasmodically in the 1360's before disappearing. It was during this period Rey's parents died.

They were on the road early, after chores and breakfast. It was agreed that Finn would stay at the manor and they prepared a casserole for him that would cook in the bread oven until it was time for dinner – which was always mid-day according to custom. 

They had changed into dress more fitting for a visit to the bishop’s palace and Rey made a present of pin money to the two girls – their wages were paid quarterly to their families, Rey providing bed and board. However, she was a generous mistress. 

Kylo brought the cart to the house and they wished Finn farewell. A little delay was caused on the road as both dogs had managed to escape Finn and chase after them. Kylo elected to take them with, they being hunting dogs and it being well within their capabilities to track them should they elude Finn again. Since being reunited with their master both dogs were only really happy when in his vicinity, although Beru was becoming close to Rey. 

The both of them curled up with the girls in the back of the cart and the rest of the journey proceeded without incident. 

Reaching the palace, Kylo helped the girls down and they made their way to the kitchens to meet with Paige, who had been given a few hours holiday to be with her sister. Rey noticed with a pang that Tallie trailed a little behind, as if unsure of her welcome, where previously she would have held Rose’s hand and engaged in happy chatter. 

+++++ 

Kylo had spoken to Finn, he assured her. Seeing no change in his demeanour and finding no fault in the way he addressed them, she had to acknowledge all the interest was from the girls. 

She had requested Kylo not be so handsy with her in front of them, and no kissing. He had just given her that wicked grin of his, all crooked teeth and dimples, which set off the clenching and wetness in her and did not change his ways at all. 

She had been mortified to encounter Finn when they exited the bothy. It was clear what they’d been up to and it was clear Finn knew what they’d been up to. They had been particularly passionate in their joining and the things he had said to her, both in giving praise and uttering oaths as he thrust into her, had only increased her pleasure and in consequence his. He’d shouted her name when he ejaculated and held her tightly afterwards, only withdrawing, regretfully, as he softened. 

She had savaged his mouth and he hers. They had stood before Finn looking as though they’d had their lips stung by the bees, so swollen and red they were her hair on display for all to see. Finn kept glancing at it to her shame. She would have run for the house, but the shameless man she had married pinned her to his side and she had had to face it out. 

_Monster_ , she had called him when they were private and he’d thrown his head back in laughter and then attacked her with kisses and soft breaths to her neck that he knew – _he knew_ – set off the contractions and jolting wetness down below. Murmuring pleas for forgiveness all the while, knowing he would do it again given the opportunity, all the while persuading her to take off her clothes the better to get at her breasts, undoing her stays himself and rolling down her stockings before kissing between her thighs working toward that sacred place meant only for him where he worshipped so frequently. 

She hoped her uncle wouldn’t arrange to hear her confession as she hadn’t quite worked out noncommittal answers to all the questions she may be asked about her married life. 

She was fairly certain to incur the church’s disapproval if she confessed what they got up to in bed and in the bothy. How many times had she been instructed that marital love was for bringing forth children not satisfying lustful carnal desire? 

+++++ 

Meanwhile, one of the palace grooms took the gelding in hand and Kylo and Rey walked to the main entrance of the palace dogs in tow - Bail and Beru could not be trusted in a kitchen. 

They waited quietly in the lobby while the bishop was found and informed of their arrival. 

Eventually they were admitted into his presence and she immediately curtsied before him kissing his ring as he held out his hand to her. 

“Monseigneur, she murmured, so good of you to see us?” 

Lor San Tekka nodded “Always a pleasure to see you, my child.” 

His eyes raked over Kylo “And this, I presume, is your husband?” 

“Yes, Monseigneur, this is my husband, Kylo Ren, she wrung her hands nervously.” 

San Tekka held out his hand toward Kylo, who bowed over it and kissed his ring with seeming reverence. 

“Kylo Ren, the bishop rolled the name around his tongue, an unusual name for an Englishman.” 

“So it has been observed, Your Grace, nevertheless it is my name.” 

San Tekka contemplated the man before him, seemed about to say something and then changed his mind. 

Noticing the hounds pressed against Kylo’s legs, his expression lightened, growing interested. 

“Are these yours, M’sieur?” 

“Yes Your Grace, for my sins.” 

San Tekka raised his brows in question “Your sins?” 

“They were parted from me for a little while, which has made them very clingy since we reunited. They are only with us today because they escaped their keeper and insisted on accompanying us.” 

San Tekka laughed softly. “What breed are they, M’sieur.” 

“Stag hounds, Your Grace.” 

“Have you bred from them yet?” 

“Not yet, Your Grace, but I intend to, one day.” 

“When that day comes, Kylo, I hope you give me first choice of the litter. I would be glad to add such hounds to my kennel.” 

“It would be my privilege, Your Grace.” 

San Tekka nodded and seemed to recollect himself. 

“Come, come and sit by the fire. May I offer you wine?” 

They declined, following the priest to the fireplace and occupying the chairs placed there, the bishop sitting opposite them. 

“Tell me, Rey, how are you finding married life?” 

Rey flushed and answered in a strangled sort of voice “Very well, thank you.” 

She felt herself receive a speculative glance from the bishop, but managed to keep her countenance – feeling herself flush again. 

San Tekka, mercifully, turned a benign glance toward Kylo. “And you, my son, how does married life suit you?” 

Kylo answered, with perfect sangfroid “I find it suits me very well, Your Grace.” 

_Monster_ , thought Rey. 

The bishop regarded them both for a moment, contrasting their demeanours - Rey flushed and nervous Kylo composed, and drew his own conclusions. 

“It may interest you to know, Rey; I received a visit from Unkar Plutt.” 

“Oh,” replied Rey, suddenly fiery eyed. 

“Yes, I asked him to come as I heard he had been housebound for a little while. Some trifling wound incurred in an accident became infected and kept him bed bound. He assures me he is on the mend. I mentioned your marriage to him by the way. He took the news very well, relieved almost. I wondered at it, given his previous pursuit of you.” 

Rey’s expressions had gone from fiery to shifty to disdainful. 

“Who can know what goes on in the mind of such a one?” 

“I agree, my child, some things are best left to ignorance. I did think to mention to him that had he ignored my interdict regarding your person, he would feel the full weight of my anger come upon him. He assured me it had been many weeks since he thought of entreating you to be his wife and, indeed, had conceived a passion for quite a different lady.” 

“Ugh, ejaculated Rey, then I pity her to have such a one as he as suitor.” 

“Those are my sentiments also, my dear Rey. I have notified the lady’s guardians of Plutt’s interest. They will keep strict watch over her.” 

He cast his eyes toward Kylo, who was sitting rigid in his chair an expression on his face boding ill for Plutt. He allowed himself to smile “I do think, however, my wrath would be inconsequential compared to the wrath of a husband.” He laughed softly. 

Rey, stealing a glance at Kylo and seeing his barely concealed anger, reached across and caught his hand. He looked at her and the darkness drained from his face. He rubbed his thumb across her fingers. As they turned their attention once more to the bishop, their hands remained clasped. Lor San Tekka took note. 

“Rey, he began, would you leave your husband and me to talk?” I understand Papa Pierre-Marie is anxious to see you.” 

Rey’s face lit up “Of course, Monseigneur.” 

“Of course, you will both stay for dinner, so meet us in the dining room at mid-day. Papa Pierre-Marie is in the gardens, I believe.” 

Before she could answer Kylo interrupted, intrigued, “I am curious to meet Papa Pierre-Marie too, Your Grace.” 

“Very well, my son, turning once more to Rey, we will come find you in the gardens and escort you to dinner.” 

“You are all that is good, Monseigneur,” she said rising and curtsying before him. 

“My child,” he murmured extending his hand for her to kiss his ring. 

The courtesy given, she bestowed a soft kiss on her husband’s lips and left for the gardens. 

Lor San Tekka’s expression grew thoughtful at the kiss, delivered so naturally and unselfconsciously. 

+++++ 

Left alone with Kylo, the priest renewed his offer of wine. This time it was accepted and he poured two glasses of clairet, the deep rose coloured wine beloved by the aristocracy of France. 

“Would you like a little water, Kylo” he asked. 

This was refused and he carried the two glasses back to the fireplace. Kylo noticed the glasses were beautifully wrought. Venetian he hazarded? This was confirmed by Lor San Tekka. Kylo concluded the Bishopric was a wealthy one. 

“I was a little taken aback when I heard the circumstances of your marriage, the priest began, Rey is habitually cautious, but from what I’ve seen this morning, it seems as though it is a felicitous one.” 

Kylo nodded. “She is a good wife and I give thanks every day that she took me as her husband.” 

“Indeed. I understand you took an oath to renounce your previous occupation and allegiances?” 

“Yes, I did. He paused. Not without thought though, Your Grace, I committed myself fully to Rey that day.” 

Lor San Tekka gazed into his glass of wine. “Tell me, my son; are you content to remain at Les Romarins? Are there not attachments at home, in England?” he raised his eyes as he spoke, locking his gaze with Kylo’s. 

Kylo met his gaze fully. “No, Your Grace, there is nothing to pull me back to England. As for my home, my home is wherever my wife is.” 

“Naturally” murmured the bishop. 

He shifted in his chair, “I once heard a story, a true one apparently, about a brother and sister, twins I believe, whose love of secular power caused them to rip their family apart. The woman had a son, I heard, who in turn had a childhood friend, almost a brother, whom the woman and her brother helped disinherit - a shameful episode in any family. This son cast off mother and uncle, changed his name and, eventually, went to fight in service of the Prince of Wales. Would you know such a person, my son?” 

Kylo looked at him steadily. “Your Grace, if I did know such a man, I would advise him to move on from the past, to kill it if he had to.” 

Lor San Tekka gazed into his wine glass again. “In itself, that, of course, would be the ideal. However, my son, I would undermine such a philosophy with two observations: firstly, the past has a way of catching up with us and, secondly, women have a way of finding out the truth.” 

“What purpose would dragging up the past of such a man have?” 

The priest stood and brought the carafe of wine over, refilling their glasses. 

He settled himself in his chair once more. 

“You know Rey and I are related? Kylo nodded. I am her mother’s brother. Our line is an ancient one, unfortunately much diminished. Rey and I are all that belongs to it.” 

“Rey was 12 when her parents died. Remnants of the Great Pestilence which swept through this region took them. Rey and I were spared. Rey was very, very angry for a long while that her parents had left her. For a while I feared for her mind, so overcome by grief and anger as she was.” 

“Have you met Armand, Comte de Theed yet?” 

Kylo shook his head. “We have not travelled far from home in the short while we have been married.” 

“Armand’s wife was alive at that time, a wonderful woman, the mother of his two boys. I asked her to take Rey in for a little while. In the two years she was with them, she knew something of a mother’s tender love. Aimee was that kind of woman. It helped heal many of Rey’s wounds. I took her back into my direct care when she was 14. It was here that she was taught to harvest and distil oils from plants, to make cosmetics and perfumes ... amongst other things. Papa Pierre-Marie took her under his wing. I believe he also taught her the use of weapons. You didn’t hear that from me by the way, sometimes it pays to look the other way and I know that on at least two occasions those skills prevented Plutt from abducting her – I suspect a third.” 

Kylo’s jaw tightened again. 

“The point I’m trying to make, my son, is this: Rey has searched for her parents in everyone she has met who took an interest in her, had a hand in her care. Aimee died recently, and although Rey handled her grief better, nevertheless, she mourned Aimee as a mother and not as a friend.” 

“What do you think her feelings would be if, for instance, she found out from an outside source her husband had rejected his family – no matter how justified his actions may have been to those who knew the truth of it?” 

Kylo felt his throat tighten and it was as if a lump the size of a pigeon’s egg was lodged in his throat and he was unable to swallow it – a common reaction when he thought of those days, he and Finn so powerless to change their destiny. 

He thought of his wife’s distress when she thought that Finn had come to take him away from her. How mistrustful she still was of Finn, afraid he would somehow attack her happiness by persuading her husband to leave her – for he did make her happy. He, Kylo Ren, was loved and made his wife happy. 

If she thought for one moment he had discarded his family for no good reason, then there would be trust issues between them, and trust, once lost, was not so easily regained and the want of it soured the deepest love. 

The bishop was addressing him once more. 

“Kylo, I am much attached to Rey, not only for reasons of family. I had heard this tale and I can think of at least one other who would be in a position to learn of it. This person wanted Rey very badly, would have married her but for you. If he thought he could separate her from you, believe me he would do it, even if he perjured himself.” 

“You are speaking of Plutt?” 

Lor San Tekka shook his head. “No, Plutt is cruel and coarse, a blunt instrument where one is needed and all too obvious in his intentions and actions. No, the person I am thinking of hides what he is, but, believe, me, his passion for Rey runs very deep.” 

Kylo swallowed, suddenly feeling his throat constrict again, his jaw working in that way peculiar to him. He managed “Was it returned?” 

“No, she is oblivious to it. To my knowledge has never suspected it. I may be celibate, but in my ministry the deepest human emotions are exposed to me and give me an insight into men’s souls. The people change, Kylo, but the situations I see never do and I’ve seen this kind of passion before. It is not healthy.” 

“Would you tell me who this person is, Your Grace?” 

Lor San Tekka shook his head. “No, my son, we need our neighbours and I do not think you are the sort who could be civil to someone who you knew had a passion for your wife, even if it was never acted upon. Your jealousy would be manifest to all. No, reveal that part of your life to Rey and this person cannot harm you. That is my advice.” 

They sat quietly, the only sounds being the shifting of the logs in the fire and the occasional grunts and sighs of the dogs as they moved position before it. 

Finally, Lor San Tekka spoke. “We must away to the gardens and Papa Pierre-Marie. That is not his official title by the way; it is what Rey has christened him. It tells you of her attachment to him. More properly he is Frere Pierre-Marie. One with a past moreover and who is equally attached to Rey. I hope you find favour with him.” 

Kylo grinned. “You are worrying me, Your Grace. What will he do with me if he finds fault?” 

“That will be entirely up to him, but I should, perhaps, warn you, he was once a soldier too, fighting under du Guesclin I believe.” 

Kylo whistled. The bishop had just named one of the finest of french mercenary captains, famed for his canniness and fighting ability and unequalled in his victories against the English. 

He was a chevalier with a convenient disregard for the chivalric code when it suited him, particularly with regard to ransoms and violation of terms of surrender. 

There were rumours that the french king wished to make him Constable of France, unheard of for someone of such low status in the ranks of the nobility and enraging those at the french court who believed such a promotion would be an insult to them. 

“Oh la la” was all he could manage. 

“My thoughts entirely, laughed the bishop, come, call up your hounds and let us go beard the lion in his den!”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is, my version of the Skywalker family drama. There are harsh words exchanged in this, so you may want to miss this chapter if it's triggering.
> 
> I'm wondering if I should change the rating for this to E. As this is unbetaed, any guidance would be gratefully received.  
> I'm just continuing with the theme of married sex.
> 
> maitresse en titre = the official mistress

The occupants of the little painted cart were very quiet on the return journey. The two dogs because they had managed to ingratiate themselves with anyone with food to spare at dinner, after having already been fed by the bishop’s groom of the kennel, and were almost comatose sleeping off the effects of their greed. 

Kylo had thought they were under his chair throughout the dinner hour, but when they rose from table they were missed. They came at his whistle and genuine laughter rang through the dining hall at their sheepish return – ears and bodies flattened and tails tentatively beating, unsure of their welcome, bloated with food. 

How they had slunk away unobserved to beg for food was beyond him. Their master was not pleased and allowed a growl to enter his voice when he spoke to them. 

The girls were quiet due to the exertions of the day and sadness on Rose’s part at leaving her sister. 

Kylo’s thoughts were consumed by the need to tell Rey the truth about his past, and dealing with the unpleasant memories that had awoken in him because of recalling that past. 

Rey had received unwelcome news at the end of the visit. Amilyn, the bishop’s housekeeper, had drawn her to one side to tell her a position had arisen at the household for a seamstress and Rose had applied for it, subject to Rey’s permission. 

‘No, she thought, I won’t blame Finn for this.’ Tallie’s betrayal was the root cause and, clearly, trust had not been rebuilt between the two. 

It was a subdued party, then, that arrived back at the manor house to be greeted by Finn. 

They stopped before the bridge and unloaded items from the tailor at Theed, items Rey had previously ordered for Kylo, and the gifts from Papa Pierre-Marie and Amilyn of foodstuffs from the bishop’s larder. 

The visit with Papa Pierre-Marie had gone well. A Breton who mostly resembled a barrel with legs, he had given Kylo some very piercing looks. The naturalness of the affection between Rey and Kylo and their evident closeness eventually won him over. He began to thaw, asking insightful questions regarding Kylo’s military service and seeming satisfied that he had truly left that life behind - just as he himself had. 

They parted cordially with a firm handshake between them, Kylo’s eyes widening at the ferocious grip of the monk. Papa Pierre-Marie allowed a grin to break over his normally impassive face at this. If they didn’t part friends, it was with mutual respect. 

Finn took the girls inside and Kylo headed for the yard, keeping Rey with him. 

They were both quiet as the horse was stabled and they dragged the cart under shelter. He took his wife in his arms and they stood there in the fading light clinging on to one another. Gradually, her own concerns receded in her mind and Kylo’s obvious distress, as communicated though his body’s tension, captured her every thought. 

“What ails you love, she said softly, tell it to me.” 

He let out a sigh. “We need to talk he answered, just as softly, about the past - about my past and my family’s.” 

It suddenly occurred to her that the past was never talked of between them. What they had discovered about each other the day she found him and all the days in between had seemed enough. 

“Kylo, she began, I can feel the tension in your body, and you don’t have to tell me anything about the past if it distresses you.” 

She thought for a moment. 

“Unless, of course, the past has you married with children.” 

“That would be easier to say.” 

She nipped him “But not to hear.” 

“Ouch, he yelped, that hurt.” 

“Good” she replied callously. 

They clung together again, and she noticed his body had relaxed somewhat. He seemed to stoop over her, almost as though she was holding him up. 

“Come, love, she said, let’s go to our bed. We may speak privately there.” 

They locked up the yard, the animals all being safely bedded down, and walked hand in hand to the house, she leaning into him as they walked. 

Finn and the girls had arranged a light supper. Once they had eaten and the house secured they departed to their beds. Rey whispered to Rose they would speak in the morning. Rose nodded, her eyes filling with tears. Rey hugged her and, seeing Tallie watching, crossed the room and hugged her too. 

+++++ 

They undressed in silence, climbing naked into their bed. He forbade the dogs to join them and they retreated, snuffling unhappily, onto the featherbed Rey had unearthed for them. 

He sat propped against the bank of pillows and she draped herself over his chest the way he liked, spreading out her hair over him for him to stroke and untangle as he chose. 

They were silent for a while. She could feel the spasming through his body as he wrestled to get his thoughts in order. She reached up and began to card his hair, pushing hair behind one of his ears in order to rub its edges. He loved it when she did that. 

Finally, he was ready to speak. 

“I have told you about Finn’s disinheriting. She murmured ‘hmm’ in answer. What I haven’t told you is the part my family played in it, specifically, my mother and uncle.” 

She raised herself on her knees to look directly at him. 

“Mon Dieu, Kylo, you are saying they are responsible for it?” 

“Not wholly, but they played a significant part.” 

She remained kneeling beside him, her hair mostly covering her nakedness. It said a lot about the turmoil of his mind that he didn’t respond to her nakedness with desire, which surely would have happened any other time. 

He reached out a hand and she clasped it with both of hers looking directly at him. 

“I have to go back to the beginning” he said. 

“My maternal grandmother was elected Queen of Naboo. Have you heard of it?” She shook her head. 

“It was a small kingdom located on the French/Spanish border that wished to keep from being annexed by the french king. There were three eligible candidates with five ballots to determine the winner, my maternal grandmother won three of them and was crowned queen.” 

“Shortly afterwards, she married my grandfather. She had been his lover for a while and found she was pregnant with his children – my mother and uncle. They married and for a little while they were happy. However, my grandfather became unstable due to jealousy. He convinced himself one of her bodyguards was the true father – a knight who also acted as her confidante. He decided to kill his wife, and the knight, and rule Naboo himself.” 

She gasped again, drawing one of her hands away and putting it against her mouth in shock. 

He grimaced. “Are you beginning to understand why it’s so difficult to tell you this?” 

She nodded and draped herself once more over his chest, gently stroking him. 

His voice wobbled as he picked up the narrative, responding to her tenderness. 

“My grandmother fled Naboo, heavily pregnant, into a neighbouring principality -Alderaan. My grandfather gathered a few men who were loyal to him and attacked the knight he suspected were the secret lover of his wife. This knight was the greatest of his day and defeated them all, killing my grandfather in single combat. He then left for Alderaan to find my grandmother. 

“He found her broken by what had happened and she went into premature labour. As she gave birth, word reached the court of Alderaan that the french king had invaded Naboo, annexing it and doing away with the monarchy. She was broken hearted, believing that she and my grandfather had brought this about. My grandmother delivered her babies, named them, entrusted them to the knight and died.” 

“The knight gave one baby, the girl, to the rulers of Alderaan who were childless. He decided not to leave the boy as it was felt this would antagonise the french king, who would think the Alderaan principality would continue its autonomy under a male heir. The boy he took into France and hid him in plain sight with relatives of my grandmother.” 

“They lived separately until their late teens when the knight, who was now in the service of the Spanish queen, was told by her that an invasion of Alderaan was imminent. With her permission, he set off to rescue the girl and reunite her with her brother. The french king did invade, killed its de facto king and queen and the aristocracy who resisted and declared it annexed.” 

“In the service of this knight was a knight of modest means, who earned most of his income from prize money for jousting. He had a small property in England which he rarely visited, but it was something tangible, somewhere to raise a family. He became my father.” 

She raised herself once more, looking into his eyes seeing anguish there. She knelt close to him, taking his face in her hands and kissing him softly again and again. 

He gave a sob and pulled her into him, burying his face in her hair. She felt his body spasm beneath her as he wept. 

Minutes passed. Gradually he calmed down and she pulled away from him and went to the washstand and wetted a facecloth to wipe his tears away. Gently she drew the cloth over his eyes, cheeks and nose. Returning to the bed once more she propped herself against the banked pillows and drew him across her body, cradling his head against her breasts. He clung to her. 

He began to speak again. 

“You have to understand, my mother was used to living at the highest levels of society. Well educated. Yes, spoilt by her adoptive parents, and involved in the politics of Alderaan and France - a princess, to all intents and purposes.” 

“My uncle on the other hand, grew up with none of her privileges. Rather, his adoptive family, while not peasants, were among the lower nobility and my uncle had to work for his keep. I believe he felt a lot of resentment about the way they had been placed.” 

“Anyway, my mother and the handsome young knight had an affair and I was conceived. I believe they would have eventually gone their separate ways, but because of me they married.” 

She heard the defeated note in his voice, clasped his head in her arms and kissed his hair “Hush, she whispered, you don’t know that.” 

He let her remark go. 

“The knight who rescued them returned to the service of the Spanish queen, and my parents and uncle journeyed to England and my father’s property. My uncle was handsome and attracted the notice of a wealthy heiress whom he married, gaining the title of Baron through her. My mother, on the other hand, had no title, only the courtesy title of Lady being married as she was to a lowly knight.” 

“She and my uncle were close and I think my father felt left out, because shortly after my uncle’s marriage he took up earning his living fighting in tournaments once more whether home or abroad. I never saw much of him. I would wake up and he was there or I would wake up and he’d be gone. I don’t have many memories to cling on to, just he was there and then he wasn’t.” 

Her heart ached for him. 

“I knew Finn from my earliest childhood. We played together, trained together, hoped one day to be knights together. Finn’s father remarried, but nothing changed, life went on, and then Finn’s step-mother gave birth to a boy. We didn’t recognise the signs at first, but as her son grew older her feelings toward Finn changed – became resentful. We didn’t understand it until Finn’s father died, and then we did.” 

He paused again and she carded her hand through his hair while he composed himself. 

“Somewhere along the line, the second Lady Neville became friends with both my mother and uncle, they were neighbours after all, and somewhere along the line she persuaded my mother and uncle to back her in a lie in order for her son to inherit the earldom. The price, I later learned, was my mother’s status of princess restored to her and my uncle to be confirmed as earl in his own right.” 

“Lady Neville had gotten her husband to sign a deathbed Will claiming that he had never been lawfully married to Finn’s mother, leaving the earldom to his second son and Finn disinherited but paid an allowance as his father’s illegitimate child. My mother and my uncle swore they had heard Finn’s father often say he had never lawfully married Finn’s mother as she was not a Christian. Lady Neville would use her influence at court to have Finn formally disinherited and her son recognised as heir, and my mother and uncle would have their titles confirmed by the king by Royal Charter.” 

She cringed internally for him, the shame of such a family. 

“They succeeded in the first part and Finn was disinherited. I believe a large sum of money was paid to the exchequer by Lady Neville – the English king is always short of money. I heard of the second part of the plot, and though I could not go against the king, I knew my uncle did not have the money to match Lady Neville’s bribe – and my mother certainly didn’t. I did the only thing I could do to stop my family benefitting from their perjury, I went to the Prince of Wales, the king’s son.” 

“He was a brother in arms – I had fought by his side in war. Whatever his deeds, his court is a model of chivalry. The likes of Bertrand du Guesclin will attest to that. It makes him both honourable and trustworthy.” 

“I went to him and laid it out before him, the whole sordid story. He was as shocked and sickened as I thought he would be, but he said he could do nothing, his father was always short of money because of the french wars and his rapacious mistress.” 

“As he said that, he paused. I can see him now, deep in thought. Finally, he turned to me and said ‘There’s one chance. My father’s mistress is always frightened someone will take her position and place. If I mock her and point out your mother, and your uncle’s wife, will take precedence over her at court, and gain the king’s ear, it will not please her. If I tell her they are plotting to put their own _maitresse en titre_ in her place, well, I’m sure she will act to block them. I’ll make it clear when she is cast aside I want my mother’s jewels back and any other property of my mother’s she has purloined. She is greedy and knows I burn when I see her with anything that once belonged to my mother’.” 

“That’s just what he did. Lady Neville would not back my mother and uncle against the king’s mistress and withdrew her support. Indeed, I believe she made the lady a large gift of jewellery and became one of her confidantes. The request was dismissed by the king for a Royal Charter, and as they did not have the resources to offer a bribe they gained nothing from their treachery.” 

“Hurrah, exclaimed Rey, tomorrow, Kylo, we will make a toast to your prince!” 

He turned in her arms “So we shall, sweetheart, so we shall.” 

“So, this is what you had to tell me, Kylo, it’s like something out of a romance.” 

“I have not yet finished, sweetheart.” 

_“Voyons_ , there’s more?” 

He nodded “When they heard who’d blocked them, both my mother and my uncle suspected I may have been responsible. To be fair, I think my mother was ashamed. 

My uncle, however, was beside himself with rage. He came to our property shortly afterwards, under the cover of night and armed. I was asleep. At that time I kept an Italian greyhound, Luca, he slept with me, as do all my dogs. Had it not been for Luca barking when my uncle entered my room, I would have died that night. It gave me time to draw steel, while Luca died defending me. My uncle fled.” 

“The household awoke and my mother rushed in with servants. I told her what had happened and she made excuses. We quarrelled and I told her it was indeed me who had gone to the prince and I was ashamed of my family.” 

“She then retaliated, expressing her belief that I was a mistake. Had it not been for me, she would not have married my father but a french aristocrat and taken her place where she belonged – at the court of the french king. Because of me, she said, she would never now have position or place. I had shamed her.” 

“Very well, Madame, I replied, you need not have me as a son or see my face again. As for position and place, well, you belong tied to the cart’s wheel and publicly whipped for your wickedness.” 

“She slapped my face, I packed up my gear, buried Luca and I haven’t seen my family since.” 

There was silence in the room. Rey absentmindedly carded her fingers through his hair, her mind racing with the enormity of what he’d told her. 

He raised his head to look at her. 

“There’s one more thing. Kylo Ren is the name I took when I disowned my family. My birth name is Ben Solo.” 

To his very great surprise, she began to laugh.


	8. Chapter 8

As was usual, she awoke first. His head was still cradled at her breast and as she looked down at his mop of black hair she felt a wave of tenderness toward him wash over her. The revelations of the night before came into her mind and here, in the calm before a new day, she thought over what he had confessed to her. 

She had missed her parents practically every day since they left her in death - her initial bitter anger had faded somewhat, but certain events in her life had caused it to reignite from time to time. Now, she saw how fortunate she was to have had them even for such a short time. The man in her arms has never in his whole life experienced the parental love she had, even if it was a brief 12 years. 

She thinks of Aimee and the mothering she received from her, and Papa Pierre-Marie who has imparted so much knowledge to her, enabling her to earn her daily bread and defend herself. The imposing figure of her uncle comes to mind, always a bulwark against a threatening world. 

She had been absentmindedly running her fingers through his hair. He grunted and moved slightly and her fingers stilled. He snuggled down again and the tender feeling filled her heart once more. I will give thanks every day, she vowed, for the love I’ve had shown me and for the gift of this man in my arms. 

Her hands moved once more through his hair and she thought of his name. Is he Ben now or still Kylo? Is she Madame Ren or Madame Solo? Dwelling on this she decides to let Kylo dictate the name he’s known by. 

She really ought to get up, but decided to allow herself the luxury of a lie-in with her husband clasped in her arms. 

She thought about his reaction to her laughter the previous night. ‘Sweetheart, why do you laugh’ he’d asked eyes wide in surprise. 

‘Kylo, she’d answered, I don’t honestly know, except the whole thing seems so fantastic. We must write it up for our children and grandchildren to read so it’s not forgot.’ 

She recalled his eyes blinking at her ‘Are you not shocked?’ 

She had witnessed the turmoil of his mind and feigned insouciance to soothe him. 

‘Well, shrugging her shoulders, it’s not quite what one _wants_ in the family, but ... 

She had been, of course, but she’d felt so many different emotions throughout the course of the narrative. She was determined, however, not to let it touch their lives at Les Romarins. It had deepened her understanding of him, but the love she felt for him remained unchanged. The past they’d leave outside at the gates, within the walls of the house was their life now and how they chose to live it. With love, she hoped. They would live it with love. 

She thought back to the profession of love she’d made to him then and how she’d been couched in his arms before she’d hardly finished speaking. 

His lovemaking had been intense. His mind unburdened, his body had descended upon hers with want and need. One hand clasped at her breast the other behind her neck, his forehead against hers. It had been deep and quick. 

He’d remained crouched over her, pressing kisses to her lips and thrusting spasmodically into her body chasing the aftershocks of their orgasm, not wanting to part their bodies. 

Eventually he’d softened and slipped out of her. Gathering her in his arms, he’d looked down on her and said ‘Sweetheart, I love you too.’ Then he’d laid his head at her breast once more and they’d drifted into sleep. 

She sighed. The day beckoned and she must get out of this bed. 

She tried to gently slip out from under him. He stirred and raised his head, yawning. 

“Good morning, wifey.” 

“Good morning, husband.” 

He surged upwards fastening his lips on hers. His hands moved up her flanks towards her breasts, he parted her legs with his, his intention clear as he reached down and laid his erection between them on her stomach. She decided on token resistance. 

“No, Monseigneur, I must get up, I don’t have time for love. 

He was relentless and persuasive, moving in on her neck mouthing at her pulse points. 

“There’s always time for love, wifey.” 

She gave in gracefully. 

+++++ 

It was unusual for them to be up and about at the same time. He helped her dress, taking particular care fastening her stays – setting her breasts just so. He put on her stockings and fastened her garters with care, planting kisses on her inner thighs. The kisses became more insistent and she pushed him away batting his persistent hands from her hips and pulling down her petticoats and skirt. 

As she watched him dress, she asked for his grandparents names. 

“Amidala-Skywalker-Solo she mused. Did you ever find out the name of the knight who rescued them?” 

He shot her a quick look, pulling down his tunic and fastening his belt. 

“Yes, he said casually, I was named after him. His name was Ben ... Ben Kenobi.” 

She raised her eyes to his “But that ... 

“... is your name. I know.” 

She shivered and got herself into his arms as quickly as she could. 

“Monseigneur, what does it all mean?” 

“I don’t know sweetheart, it’s as though some force brought us together. When you gave your name at the altar rail I thought I’d misheard. That someone of that name was rescuing me ... it was unbelievable. I don’t know where this road will lead us, but of one thing I am sure, we were meant to be together.” 

At his words she shivered once more and begged him “Hold me close.” 

His strong arms encircled her and they stood for some minutes, he calm and accepting, and she with her head in a whirl about what it all meant. 

Faint sounds of the household stirring reached them, the dogs standing and stretching needing to be let out. Hand in hand they left their room and headed downstairs. 

+++++ 

Kylo let it be known he and Finn were riding to Theed that morning. 

“I’ll take the dogs, he said, they need to run off some of that food. Fat hunting dogs are neither use nor ornament.” 

She chuckled at the English proverb. 

He took them out to walk and feed them, rousing Finn as he went. 

She found Rose in the pantry drawing small beer for breakfast. She went to the girl and wrapped her arms around her. 

“I won’t stand in your way, Rose, she said. I’ll miss you, but obviously you know your own heart and perhaps it’s for the best. When do you need to leave?” 

“Oh, Madame, I’m so sorry, the girl whispered tearfully, but it’s a chance to be with my sister. Amilyn said as soon as you could let me go.” 

Rey nodded. “I think it’s best if you don’t linger. Tallie, I think, is going to take this very hard. I’ll take you to Theed tomorrow. You can settle in and Amilyn can calculate your wages from then. You know, you’ll need to talk to your parents about having a portion of your wages, I don’t think the bishop will give you pin money as I have. Will that be a problem do you think?” 

“I’ll need to speak with them. I think the wages are not so good with the bishop, so they may not give me the same pin money as Paige as they’ll lose money with the change of employment. 

Rey held her at arm’s length, looking into the girl’s eyes “Rose, if there are any problems, please let me know. I have to take on help to replace you, but I can hold out until the next quarter day.” 

The girl’s eyes filled with tears “Thank you, Madame; you’ve always been very fair to me.” 

Rey gave her a quick hug, and then she assumed her mistress of the house persona. 

“Well, we must get on. Monseigneur will want his breakfast soon. We have lots of bread to use up. I’ll make _pain perdu_ with the manchette loaf Amilyn gave me.” 

Rose’s face lit up. _Pain perdu_ was a rare treat in the household due to Rey’s careful management of food. Soon the kitchen was redolent with the scent of cinnamon, Rey having fetched her locked spice tin from its hiding place in the pantry, unlocking it to reveal six small tins with the name of each spice painted in gold upon the lid. 

When Finn and Kylo entered the kitchen hard on the heels of Tallie, the kitchen was perfumed with the fragrance of bread soaked in milk and beaten eggs, sweetened with a little sugar and cinnamon, frying in a lavish amount of butter. The dogs were ecstatic at the aromas perfuming the kitchen, heads raised and noses twitching in anticipation. 

They caught Rey’s eye. “You two stay right where you are, she scolded waving a wooden spatula in their direction, unless you want to die.” 

They were thieves! She had laid the disappearance of a ham hock at their door – though nothing could be proved. 

Kylo called them to heel and they subsided, sulking, under his chair. 

“We need to spend some time with these two he said to Finn, they are becoming spoilt.” 

“Aren’t we all?” replied Finn. He was enjoying having a home again. 

Kylo looked toward his wife and laughed “We certainly are.” 

After breakfast Kylo and Finn went to saddle up and Rey took the shallow mixing bowl along with any scraps of bread into the courtyard for the dogs to lick clean. 

She sat on one of the benches that graced the courtyard, eyes closed, enjoying the fresh air. When she heard the base of the bowl being dragged along the courtyard she knew the dogs had done their work and were now licking the taste of the mixture from it. She fetched it off of them and they collapsed near her feet continuously licking their lips a dreamy expression in their eyes. 

“You _are_ spoilt” she grumbled at them. They banged their tails against the cobbles in acknowledgement. 

She heard footsteps coming across the bridge and stood, anticipating her husband coming to bid her farewell. Instead it was the poacher’s wife, known to all as Madame Jacques – Rey had been speaking of buying game from M’sieur Jacques to feed the two reprobates currently rising to greet their unexpected guests with faint growls and the deep warning wuffs reserved for strangers. 

She put down the bowl and grabbed them by their studded collars, seeing a small figure cowering behind the poacher’s wife. 

“Sit!” she commanded. They obeyed, but were like coiled springs – their bodies quivering with tension. 

“Madame, she called, wait there, please. Let me get these two under lock and key.” 

She dragged them into the kitchen calling for Rose and Tallie to take them to the Great Hall and lock them in. She managed to get them in the house and close the door before they could get out. Immediately, their deep baying reverberated throughout the courtyard along with frantic scrabbling of claws against wood. She sighed at the sound of the onslaught on the house door. 

“Madame, how may I assist you?” she turned to her unexpected visitor. 

The woman curtseyed to her. “Good day, Madame Ren, I heard you were looking for a girl to help around the house and brought my daughter for consideration.” She dragged the cowering figure from behind her skirts; a small, skinny child. 

Rey, familiar with the local rumour mill, was, nevertheless, taken aback by the speed with which news of Rose’s leaving Les Romarins had got around. 

“Madame, it is true Rose goes to work for my uncle the bishop, but I was going to wait a little while until I was sure she had settled.” 

The woman looked a little crestfallen at this news. 

“I see, Madame, but could you keep my daughter in mind?” 

Rey was sympathetic but the girl was very young – nine or ten years? 

“No, Madame, Marie-Claude is twelve years old.” 

Rey was sceptical, but returned a non committal answer. 

She sat back on the bench and held her hands out to the girl. 

“Come here, petite.” 

The girl cast a scared look at her mother, who pushed her in Rey’s direction. 

She came forward with lagging steps and stood shyly before Rey, who still held out her hands to her. 

“Come, petite, take my hands.” 

The little girl timidly put her fingers into Rey’s hands and she grasped them firmly. They seemed cold. She could feel the calluses which betokened the carrying out of chores at home. 

“Tell me, petite, what you can do around the house?” 

The little girl swallowed nervously. “If it pleases you, milady, I can fetch water and mind the fire and collect eggs from the chickens.” 

“Can you sew, Marie-Claude?” 

The little girl shook her head and seemed to want to cry. 

“How do you feel about leaving home to live here, petite? Our day starts early here at Les Romarins and you will have to live here with Monseigneur and me.” 

The little girl’s eyes filled with tears at this and she cast an anguished glance at her mother. 

“Of course she knows this, Madame. She understands she will live with you and have a very good life.” 

The little girl’s lips trembled, but she nodded at her mother’s words. She had obviously been coached. 

At that Rey heard her husband’s heavy tread coming over the bridge and he appeared in the courtyard looking curiously at the woman and child with his wife. 

He was an imposing figure at the best of times and she heard the little girl gasp in fear, her fingers gripping Rey’s hands convulsively. 

“Monseigneur, this is Marie-Claude, who has come to ask to be our servant.” 

Kylo glanced down at the child holding onto his wife’s hands for dear life. 

“Good morrow, petite” he greeted her. 

Colour came into her pale cheeks and she looked down at her sabots murmuring “Good day, Monseigneur.” 

He turned his attention to Rey. “We are off now, I just need the dogs.” 

“I shut them in, she replied, they were getting too boisterous. Can you hear them?” 

They had stopped baying, but clearly their noses were pressed to the bottom of the house door as loud snuffling could be heard as they scented the persons in the courtyard. Loud whining had started as they picked up Kylo’s scent. 

“Madame, would you go sit beside my wife” he requested the poacher’s wife. 

“Rey, gather Marie-Claude to yourself.” 

She drew the little girl between her legs, arms clasped around her thin body. 

He strode to the kitchen door and opened it; the dogs rushed out, pressing against his legs and dropping to the cobbles as he commanded them to lie down. They were curious about the visitors and gave a few wuffs but remained obedient. 

“Is there anything we can get you from Theed?” he asked. 

“No, Monseigneur, I don’t think so, and I’m going into Theed myself tomorrow to take Rose to my uncle’s housekeeper.” 

“Very well, he replied, moving forward to kiss her, we won’t be long.” 

She presented her hand for his kiss, but, of course, he had no consideration for the proprieties. He ignored her hand, cupped her chin in one large hand and planted a soft kiss full on her lips. 

She heard the poacher’s wife gasp at the public display of affection. 

“English, you understand, Madame, she murmured as her tall husband strode off, dogs in tow, they are all quite mad.” 

“ _Sans doubte_ , Madame, but, oh, how he is handsome - her tone changed to one of indulgence. He will make fine babies, I think.” 

Rey merely murmured “Indeed, Madame.” 

+++++ 

As predicted, Tallie reacted with a storm of weeping at Rose’s news. 

Kylo and Finn took one look at the weeping girl clutching at Rose and begging forgiveness, and decided they had somewhere else to be. 

‘Typical’ thought Rey as she gathered both girls in her arms, murmuring assurances to them both. 

At last some order was restored and, as dinner was now delayed, Rey began to call an end to the expressions of passionate regret by clapping her hands and recalling both girls to be mindful of their duties. 

“Girls, she exclaimed, here is Monseigneur without his dinner. Why do we make him wait?” 

Inside she was cringing, but maintained a stern demeanour. 

Rose was sent to find the men, and Tallie set the table with spoons and bowls. Rey fetched the civet of boar from the bread oven and set the covered dish before Kylo’s place setting. 

Green beans and fresh baked bread were added and the table was set. 

Rose came in, face streaked with tears. Rey sent both girls to splash their faces with water and tidy their hair. 

Kylo entered the kitchen cautiously, followed equally cautiously by Finn. Even the dogs disappeared quickly under the table. 

“Is all safe?” asked Kylo. 

Rey rolled her eyes “If it is, it’s no thanks to you two, she hissed, please sit.” 

Cowed, they took their places and Rey removed the lid of the dish and placed a ladle in it. The aroma of the rich dish pervaded the air. 

Kylo pulled her into his body and squeezed her. 

She moved away to set down the lid and called for the girls to come eat. 

Kylo and Finn had obviously been making plans during their morning spent together. Finn had brought all of Kylo’s gear with him, but his was still at their previous billet. He was going to journey to collect it and make Les Romarins his permanent home. 

The damage had already been done by having him here, Rey ruefully reflected, the fact that Kylo had not consulted her on this matter bothered her not at all. She was aware of the life debt Kylo felt he had incurred toward Finn and, anyway, she stood by her assertion that Kylo was master at Les Romarins – even more so as it seemed to be the business of Kenobi’s to keep his line preserved. 

“Would you like to move from the tower into the house?” she asked. 

No, he was quite happy in his current quarters. The tower had three floors and he felt happy and self-contained there. 

That reminded her of something “Monseigneur, we need to prepare firewood for the winter. A fire burns permanently in the Great Hall during the winter and we need to heat Finn’s quarters too. Oh, and I need a Yule log to be cut for the Great Hall also.” 

The discussion widened out to include the chores and changes needed at Les Romarins. She was pleased to see Finn fully invested in the property. 

The conversation was a distraction, but as she and Finn were sat across from the girls, the woebegone face of Tallie and the red-eyed one of Rose, they were unable to completely immerse themselves in happy chatter. 

She noticed Kylo and Finn had finished their wine. 

“Monseigneur, may we clear away now and serve ‘pudding’?” 

Pudding was an english word she had adopted. When she first heard it, she’d said it several times in succession, enchanted by its sound. 

Permission given, the table was cleared and a dish of baked apples set before Kylo with a jug of cream. She had taken out the cores and stuffed them with raisins, butter and sugar – their sweet, delicate aroma was mouth watering. 

She looked around the table at the little family belonging Les Romarins. 

Rey was a creature who hated change, resisted it even. It had something to do with the death of her parents and clinging on to what had gone before, wanting those days back again. 

Recently, however, she had begun to question herself. Without embracing change, she never would have married Kylo and know the happiness of married love. Finn wouldn’t have happened and although it had disrupted life at Les Romarins, it had helped Rose be with her sister. 

Les Romarins could only survive and prosper, she began to understand, if she embraced change. Not too much, she hoped, but enough to secure the future. 

She continued in this reflective mood. Rose was leaving tomorrow, and maybe in the future a daughter of the house would leave in marriage. 

Finn was being added, and perhaps in the future a firstborn son would bring a bride into the house - with the promise of grandchildren to come. 

She looked at her husband preparing the portions of baked apple for the girls. Healthy babies, of course, must be a first wish, but, oh, how she hoped their children would reflect his dark beauty in their features. 

She imagined a son and a daughter with mops of black hair, cognac coloured eyes and plump, red lips made for kisses. 

He raised his eyes to hers, and seemed to catch her thoughts. He reached out a hand toward her and those pretty eyes of his held a soft smile. 

Was it her fancy, but when he touched her, did she hear an ‘Amen’ echo through her mind?


	9. Chapter 9

Leave taking had been traumatic, Tallie clinging on to Rose, apologising once more and blaming herself for Rose leaving. Neither girl looked as though they had had much sleep. Rey felt worn out with all the drama. 

At last they were on the road. Kylo had offered to accompany them but she had declined, wanting to visit with Amilyn and get Rose settled. 

She spent a good hour with Amilyn, explaining the situation at Les Romarins and elaborating on the talents Rose possessed, particularly with regard to sewing and embroidery. She showed Amilyn samples of Rose’s work and could tell Amilyn was impressed. 

Rey had been taught to sew and embroider by Aimee in the two years of her guardianship. When she had been taken back into the bishop’s care, one day in every month had been spent visiting with the Comtesse perfecting the art of embroidery, among other things. She, in turn, had taught both girls how to sew and to do simple embroidery to embellish linens and clothing. 

She had hoped to see her uncle face to face, but unfortunately he was away from home. She had wanted to find out if he knew anything about the history of Ben Kenobi. 

Her duty done to Rose, she was once more on the road, bowling along, wanting to be home. 

She became aware of horses hooves behind her – by the sounds of them advancing at a rapid pace. Unbidden, the image of Plutt rose in her mind, no, surely not - he had nothing to gain now she was married. An image of what he might want to gain flashed through her mind and she slowed the gelding to a walk reaching for her crossbow and quarterstaff. 

The bow was already cocked and as she pulled out a bolt from the quiver at her feet the horsemen reached her and passed by. Relief flooded through her, not Plutt but Armand, Comte de Theed. 

He spared the woman in the cart a cursory glance as he passed, realisation of whom it was occurring about a quarter mile down the road. He halted his escort and turned back. 

She had pulled the cart up when she saw him turn back, and such was her relief at it being Armand rather than Plutt she put more warmth into her greeting that was perhaps warranted. 

He carefully turned his horse and drew level with her, able to observe the full warmth of her smile reflected in her eyes. 

“Armand” she greeted him. 

He touched his whip to his hat “Rey, or should I say Madame Ren?” 

She threw back her head and laughed. “If you do, I must call you Milord.” 

He gazed at her. She was always beautiful to look at, but her skin seemed to have a glow about it, her eyes too. In fact she looked both different and the same from what she had been before. He struggled to find the word to best describe her, and then it came to him – desirable. 

The demure passive beauty she had had before was gone, the stained glass Madonna was gone and a living, vibrant woman was in her place. He felt overwhelmed and a little cheated that her awakening had not come at his hands. 

She was speaking to him again, asking where he was going, and he pulled himself back from his thoughts. 

“To Paris, he stammered out, I’ve business in Paris.” 

She set the gelding walking and he fell in beside her. 

“I think my uncle is also in Paris, she was saying. I’ve just come from the palace. One of my servants has made a change to serve there.” 

He tried to look interested. 

“How are the boys” was her next question. 

“They’re fine, thank you for asking.” 

She caught his introspective mood and offered “Armand, please don’t let me keep you, I’m not far from home now.” 

He pointed with his whip to the crossbow on the seat and the bolt still in her hand. 

“Clearly you were nervous about someone you would meet on the road.” 

She looked at her hand and laughed. “I had forgotten about this” leaning down and replacing the quarrel in the quiver. 

“Who were you anticipating that you took such measures?” 

“Oh, it’s nothing. My uncle told me I was safe, but I suppose force of habit made me reach for these.” 

He reached across and pulled on the reins stopping her once more. 

“You’re safe from whom, Rey?” 

She grimaced at her slip of the tongue, and forbore to object to such high handed treatment. Looking into his face she saw concern, and something else. 

“Plutt. Plutt has tried to kidnap me and force me against my will.” 

In all the years she had known him, she had never seen such an expression on his face as he now wore – that of murderous rage. 

“Why was I never informed of this?” 

“Armand, why would you be? Anyway, my uncle threatened Plutt with excommunication if he didn’t desist.” 

Again, he was too acute for her. “So there was more than one occasion? Clearly, my methods would have been more effective. I ought to have been told if that beast was threatening you.” 

She looked at him puzzled and a little afraid at the aura of menace about him. 

“Armand, all is well. I’m married now and have a husband’s protection.” 

He stared at her. “Is that why you married a soldier of fortune, because of Plutt?” 

“Had I been informed of Plutt’s actions you would not have needed to debase yourself with such a _mesalliance_.” 

The expression on his face of barely controlled fury and the venom in his voice took her aback. 

Rallying, she said as calmly as she could, “Armand, that remark was unworthy of you and most certainly insulting to me as I chose to marry him.” 

He did not back down. 

“And where are this husband and his vaunted protection? It seems to me, Rey, you made a bad bargain.” 

He was clearly berating her and she did not know how to respond. Never had he spoken to her like this or given any indication that he was capable of such speech. What was driving him she had no idea and remained silent, unwilling to provoke him further. 

Her silence proved effective. He got himself under control and managed “I beg your pardon, Rey. My concern for you got away with my tongue. Please forgive me, I am always your devoted servant, but have overstepped.” 

She smiled, but it was forced. “No harm done, Armand, but, please, do not let me delay your journey.” She so wanted to be rid of him. 

He was shaking his head. “You shall command me in all things, Rey, but not in this. I will see you safely home.” 

There was something possessive in his demeanour. Unwilling to provoke him further she merely inclined her head in assent and gave the gelding the office to move, encouraging him into a trot. Armand kept pace beside her, the escort of six falling in behind. 

She concentrated on the road ahead, highly uncomfortable in his company but not wanting to provoke a further scene. Although she was sure he would never hurt her physically, his words and demeanour had shocked and shaken her more than Plutt’s lecherous actions. Plutt had lived up to her expectations; never had she suspected Armand could be capable of such conduct as he had shown today. 

After what seemed like hours, but in reality were minutes, the towers and roofs of Les Romarins came into view. She fought not to weep with relief, her eyes stinging with unshed tears due to the pent up emotion Armand’s conduct had provoked. 

She determined not to stop and take leave, but twirled her whip in salute and turned into the road which led to home, not looking back. In the distance she could see a tall figure kicking his heels by the bridge. She started to sob with relief as he straightened up to welcome her home. 

+++++ 

Kylo had thought his wife may be a little tearful returning home, he did not anticipate the sobs racking her body as she neared him. She pulled the cart to a stop but he was already moving, leaping up beside her wrapping one arm around her and pulling her close to his body, his free hand taking the reins. 

She heard him calling for Finn, who came at the run, responding to the urgency in Kylo’s voice. She was passed down to him and then Kylo was beside them, lifting her up in his arms. 

He carried her through to the Great Hall. It was a room rarely used these days, being built for banquets and a time when the Kenobi’s kept a large household. 

There was a nook beside the fireplace, cushioned and private. He sat there with her on his knee, holding her tight. Eventually her sobs died down comforted as she was by his arms and the dogs thrusting their noses under her hand, whining in distress at her tears. 

As her body stilled, he ceased his soothing words and tipped her head up to examine her face. 

“Wait here, love” he spoke gently, settling her against the cushions. He returned shortly carrying a beaker of wine and a washcloth. He snapped his fingers at the dogs calling them to heel – Beru had been trying to climb onto her lap to comfort her. 

He carefully wiped her face, then put the beaker in her hands and bade her drink. The wine spread warmth through her, but being in his arms was better. He laughed softly when she expressed this and took the beaker away, settling her once more on his knee. 

“So, sweetheart, why so many tears, was parting from Rose so difficult?” 

She buried her face against him and shook her head. 

“It was something else then?” 

She nodded. 

She couldn’t see his face darken. “Something happened on the road?” 

She nodded again. 

He kept his voice gentle, though his expression was not. “Was it Plutt?” 

“No, she spoke firmly if with a quiver in her voice. Not Plutt.” 

“It was someone else then?” 

There was a long pause, then “Armand.” 

He didn’t speak for a while, then “Armand, Comte de Theed?” 

She nodded. 

“Did he touch you?” 

She shook her head. 

“Then he said something. He paused. Was it about me?” 

She sat up slowly, looking at her hands. “I can tell it, but I can’t look at you while I say it.” 

He clasped her loosely with his arms. “Sweetheart, take your time.” 

Haltingly, the whole sorry tale came out. 

“What I don’t understand, she ended, is his tone. Armand seemed to want to strike at me with his words, but I’d done nothing to harm him. He wanted me to feel cheap for choosing you, but he couldn’t. She looked into his eyes then. I have no regrets concerning you, Kylo, and I don’t believe I ever will.” 

He pulled her to him. Kylo Ren had not been a good man and his past was littered with love affairs that had ended bitterly and with recriminations. He knew that Armand was expressing sexual jealousy towards his wife with his words. In his past, he too had played out the same scenario himself. He had been an intense and jealous lover. He recalled Lor San Tekka’s words about Rey’s secret admirer - a man of unhealthy passions. 

Now, however, he was a husband. Husband to a lovely, vital creature who moved him in quite a different way to his past loves. He had just a strong desire for her body, but it was tempered with softer emotions – the desire to protect and shield her chiefest right now. 

“Remember, love, you told me there would be those who would not like our union.” 

She looked at him “But Kylo, I was speaking of those who wanted to marry me. Armand never wanted that. How could he when he was married already?” 

He recalled Lor San Tekka’s words regarding Rey being oblivious to the intentions of her admirer. 

“Then we’ll put it down to prejudice, love.” 

He stroked her cheek. “In future, either Finn or I will go abroad with you. There may be others who share his prejudices - just until people get used to us.” 

She was more shaken by the morning’s events that she could tell him, so she nodded her agreement. “Yes, I think so.” 

“Come, it’s time for dinner. Then I’ll take you upstairs and ravish you.” 

She went off in a peal of laughter. “No, Monseigneur, I’ve too much to do.” 

He nuzzled her neck, blowing soft breaths behind her ear before planting a kiss there – “We’ll see.” 

She stood up, shaking out her dress and smoothing it. As he stood beside her, she turned and slipped her arms around his waist. 

“Thank you, Kylo, for everything.” 

He kissed her forehead. 

“It was a pleasure, my lady.” 

Hand in hand they walked toward the kitchen and Finn and Tallie. 

+++++ 

He did ravish her. Luring her into the garden, and then into the bothy. He was careful to ensure she was completely fulfilled. Watching the angles of her face soften and her eyes lose focus as her orgasm rendered her body languid and heavy, needing his support to stand. 

He carried her to a broken trough in the garden which she’d planted up with chamomile. As he sat down, the wonderful scent of the crushed chamomile rose up, soothing them both. 

He hummed the tune of ‘Aupres de ma blonde’ softly to her, gently rocking her on his knee. He had removed her head covering, as he was wont to do, and he wrapped a hank of her hair around one of his hands – anchoring him to her. They sat there a while, warmed by the sun. 

+++++ 

Two days later he set off with Finn, ostensibly to exercise the dogs and horses. He returned carrying a gift wrapped in a scrap of velvet. Before Finn and Tallie, he opened up the cloth to reveal two gold wedding bands. 

Her breath caught in her throat. The exchange of rings was the sealing of a marriage contract. They hadn’t had them at the ceremony and Pere Francois had borrowed a ring off a female Parisian, symbolically touching their ring fingers with the borrowed gold band. Only then was the marriage valid. 

Since then, she hadn’t really given the lack of a ring any thought. Kylo, apparently, had. 

He held up her wedding band before Finn and Tallie as witnesses and then most reverently took her right hand and placed it on her ring finger – a perfect fit. 

She took his band from the cloth and repeated the ceremony. 

+++++ 

He’d had a sentiment engraved on hers: ‘Tu Es Ecrit Mon Cuer’: 

Thou Art Written on My Heart.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting chapters 10 & 11 together as they follow on from each other. A big read, but it is the weekend. Enjoy!

They had been married three months. Three months for their attachment to deepen as they better understood one another and the events in their past lives which have helped shape their characters and inform their life choices. 

Three months of being made love to daily except when her menses are present, when she will not allow him to touch her in that way - which means that he always believes himself to be in deficit. If she really wants to get things done she must leave their bed as soon as she wakes and under no circumstances go near the garden. He keeps careful tally of what he’s owed and is devious in getting to have his wicked way with her. 

He is a man of deep feeling, which he expresses to her through the act of love and through touch, and to his friends by his constancy. He’s a man who loves in deed rather than word. Only during the act of love does he reveal through words the depth of his love for her and it is intoxicating to hear his professions of love as he comes undone above her. 

She is inexperienced not naive, and realises he must have had many loves before her to be such an experienced lover – no clumsy pawing from him in bed, he knows how to please. 

+++++ 

The little household has new additions. 

Finn travelled to get his gear and returned ten days later with a young knight in tow – Dopheld. 

Like Finn and Kylo, there’s nothing for him to return to England for and he’s looking for a home. He’s about twenty two years and a personable young man with dark hair, a round face and black eyes. Tallie perks up as soon as she sees him and Rey reminds Kylo to give him _The Talk_. 

Rey asks him if he’d like to live in the house or the south tower of the gatehouse. Like Finn, he opts for the tower, after sharing quarters he wants space of his own. 

He will be useful at Les Romarins as he actually knows about farming unlike Finn or Kylo. They are willing to provide the muscle though and the three of them make a start on the woodland – logging and clearing the undergrowth. 

The second addition is Marie-Claude. She came to them on quarter day in June. It was a decision made with Rey’s heart. That didn’t stop her head coming into play when it came to negotiating the little maid’s wages though. 

Madame Jacques found out that Rey may look soft and feminine, but has in actuality a spine of steel. The ability to fetch water, mind the fire and collect eggs does not qualify for the same money as Tallie, and Rey bargained hard. 

She came to fetch Marie-Claude in her painted cart escorted by Kylo and the dogs. The neighbours turned out to watch the little maid, her tiny bundle of possessions at her feet, leave in some style for her new life at Les Romarins. 

The imposing figure of Kylo sat astride his equally imposing warhorse, the two hounds with their sleek coats and studded collars standing aloof and proud, made quite the impression. They congratulated Madame on the placement of her daughter, which was graciously acknowledged, but Madame had the measure of Rey by this time and any thoughts of imposing on her through her daughter had long been abandoned. 

Marie-Claude was sharing with Tallie, as Rose had done, and burst into tears upon seeing the little bed with its carved headboard made up and ready, a painted chest for her meagre belongings at the foot of it and pegs for her dresses and petticoats on the wall. Both Rey and Tallie gathered her up and learnt the little maid was overwhelmed at the luxury of her quarters. 

Rey and Tallie started sewing garments for her that very evening after supper, her wardrobe not being sufficient for life at Les Romarins. Kylo, Finn and Dopheld showed an early tendency to spoil her. 

Rey sat her with a scrap of fabric, needle and thread, and had her practice basic straight stitch. Marie-Claude would leave Les Romarins with skills should she ever want a change. 

Once her bandana was removed, she was found to be a redhead. Once she was bathed, her skin was revealed to be pale and creamy, her eyes green, her cheekbones high. Rey felt a tug of memory, upon taking in these details, which she couldn’t quite recall and about which she soon forgot as the season marched on. 

+++++ 

Currently, they were waiting on the Breton seasonal workers to arrive to bring in the fruit harvest – mainly apples and pears, and harvest what wheat they had grown, and make hay. Tallie, Rey and Marie-Claude got busy cleaning out the fruit store and hayloft. 

There were six horses now at Les Romarins and Finn and Dopheld had agreed to help purchase feed for them against the winter. Normally Rey would have had hay to sell, but with three warhorses, two rounceys and the gelding that will no longer be possible. 

The Bretons travel in wagons pulled by oxen and Rey asked Kylo to have the sward south of the house scythed so as to accommodate them, the oxen will graze on the unscythed portion. 

The meals will be communal with the household, either on trestle tables set up in the courtyard or in the Great Hall if the weather’s inclement. Truth be told, Rey loves the extended family come to visit feeling. The Bretons came when her parents were alive, and before that when her father was a bachelor. She loves the communal meals, the gossip and the recounting of news they have gathered on their annual journey from Brittany. 

It feels like having a family. 

+++++ 

They have arrived. Short in stature, but wiry and strong, they are dwarfed by her husband but are bothered not a whit. Fiercely independent with a ‘we don’t quit’ collective mindset, they jump down from their wagons and cross to where the Les Romarins household wait to greet them. 

“Good day, Mam’selle, their elder begins, then, suddenly noticing her wedding ring - Oh la la!” 

Rey smiled “M’sieur Alexandre, good day. I trust you had a safe journey?” 

He made a little moue with his mouth and moved his hand indicating some good, some bad, and looked at her expectantly. 

“M’sieur Alexandre, may I introduce my husband, Milord Ren.” 

His brows rose at the honorific, but he made his bow and looked a question. 

“Monseigneur and I were married three months ago in Paris. Monseigneur is english.” 

“Ah, english!” M’sieur Alexandre’s posture became positively friendly. 

There are strong ties between the duchy of Brittany and the English crown going back centuries. In the recent Breton war, it was an English led Breton army which put the de Montfort duke in power, keeping the duchy out of french hands. Duke John’s wife is the step-daughter of the Prince of Wales - heir to the English crown. 

M’sieur Alexandre has news. The Prince got involved in the Spanish War of Succession, but although he was victorious in battle, the payment he was promised by the victor, Pedro, has not, in fact, been paid. This has left him severely short of money and he has decided to tax the inhabitants of Aquitaine, where he is de facto ruler. 

The fouage (property tax) he has imposed is unpopular and as a result alliances are shifting. The nobility who fought for him have lost money which the prince cannot reimburse. There are mutterings that the french king never imposed taxes on them. Taking full advantage of the unrest, the french king is making treaties of assistance with certain noblemen who outright reject paying the tax. 

Against advice, he has released du Guesclin, whom he had captured in battle, upon payment of his ransom by the french king. This was a very bad move on the part of the prince, M’sieur Alexandre opines, the wolves are gathering and du Guesclin will undoubtedly lead an army against the prince should the french king ask it. 

The three English knights stand silent and concerned. The prince is a model of chivalric behaviour, and he would have considered it against his honour not to release du Guesclin once the ransom had been paid. However, they agree with M’sieur Alexandre, releasing du Guesclin was not wise. He is the master of the forced march and the lightning raid. With a small force and with the right run of luck, he could inflict death by a thousand cuts on the prince – why else would the french king pay his ransom if not to need him to fight? 

Rey went to her husband and took his hand, not in doubt but in comfort. He looked down at her and squeezed it. 

M’sieur Alexandre’s sharp eyes see the intimate gesture and he hums a little. 

Rey broke the heavy silence, “M’sieur Alexandre, we have the place ready for your wagons. Would you then like to come to the house and take some refreshment?” 

M’sieur Alexandre beamed his acceptance, bowed and turned to call out orders to the others. 

+++++ 

Rey found being in the company of married women as a married woman enlightening. The mundane, everyday topics were talked over for sure, but other, more intimate, topics crop up - the married Breton women assuming she possessed a knowledge which she didn’t, in fact, have. 

For instance, they were currently discussing how a ‘lively woman’ could please her husband in bed. Rey wasn’t sure she heard right. Were they talking of putting their husband’s penis in their mouth? Surely that was contrary to its use? - Definitely forbidden according to church teachings. 

She listened, both fascinated and repelled. Did men, husbands, really enjoy such attentions? She looked around to make sure Tallie and Marie-Claude weren’t within earshot. No, thankfully, they were far away enough not to hear this particular conversation, being absorbed in the concerns of the young unmarried women and girls. 

She was aware of being addressed. 

“That big boy of yours must be something of a mouthful” said one of them, with a wink, and accompanying laughter among the group. 

“No, that is to say, yes ... I suppose so ... I don’t think we ... that is to say, Monseigneur wouldn’t like it ... I don’t think” Rey stammered out. 

All eyes were on her as she blushed and stopped speaking. 

“My dear, said another patronisingly, all men like it and a wise wife gives her husband what he likes – else he finds it with another.” 

Rey’s head went up proudly at this. 

“Madame, I find you in error. Monseigneur loves me, only me, and no other.” 

“My dear girl, he is what six, seven years older than you? A man of his looks will not have lacked lovers, and a man like that will attract those who wish to be his lover.” 

Rey was painfully aware that Kylo probably had had many lovers before her. It was something she occasionally reflected on, not without a pang to her heart. Hearing it said by a woman older and wiser than her left her feeling gauche and unworthy. That he may take a lover in the future, forsaking her ... that was a thought not to be entertained. 

She subsided and allowed the talk to wash over her. 

+++++ 

Later, having excused herself as soon as she could, walking back toward the house deep in thought, Rey mulled over the woman’s words. Her husband was older than her, twenty nine this November. Had his other lovers performed this office for him? 

Her footsteps led her to the walled garden, to the chamomile seat. She sank onto it, seeking balm for her unquiet thoughts from the scent of the crushed leaves. 

What did his previous lovers look like? Were they small breasted like her? Were they brunettes like her? Did he have a type? And the killer question: would he have been interested in her if they had met under different circumstances? 

The insecure part of Rey whispered back to her: ‘probably not’. Not unless he’d seen Les Romarins first, as her other suitors had. The thought depressed her and eventually, with lagging feet, she went back to the house to prepare supper. 

She was very quiet all evening. The men had done hard physical work all day and the conversation was all about the day’s tasks accomplished and tomorrow’s tasks to be done, so her introspection passed unnoticed. 

She was the last going to bed, starting the dough for tomorrow’s bread and banking up the kitchen fire. 

Entering their room, she went about her ablutions as quietly as possible, giving the dogs a last pet as she loosened her robe and slid under the cool linen sheet, the room lit softly by moonlight through the high un-shuttered windows. 

She was careful to stay away from Kylo, not wanting to wake him, imagining his muscles sore from the day’s labours. 

“Come here, sweetheart” his voice rumbled softly. He didn’t move from the pillows banked behind him. 

She slid obediently toward him, taking her place against his chest, spreading her hair over them both as he liked. 

“Did I wake you, love, she whispered? I apologise, I can sleep elsewhere if you wish?” 

His grip on her tightened, “We’ll have none of that” he murmured. 

“Sleep, then, love” she whispered, preparing for sleep. 

“You were quiet through supper” he murmured, a comforting rumble against her breasts. 

“Shush, love, sleep” she whispered again. 

The room quietened and she fully stretched against him, one of her legs lying between his, which woke up ‘little Kylo’, who made his wishes known by pressing against her thigh. 

She moved her leg away and adjusted her position on her husband’s chest. 

She thought of the talk of the Breton women and the details they had imparted on how to do the deed. Would this be a good time to please Kylo, when his body was too tired to mount her, but a part of him still requested attention and release? 

Absentmindedly, she found herself stroking her husband’s flank working down toward his navel - ‘little Kylo’ nudged her hand as it strayed into his vicinity and she took hold of him, the skin soft, but the muscle underneath solid and wanting. Kylo shifted under her. 

She rose onto her knees, pulling back the linen sheet, grasping him once more. 

Separating her knees so she rested on her inner calves and thighs, she leaned over and took the tip into her mouth, closing her lips around him and using her tongue as stimulus. 

The effect on Kylo was instantaneous; he bucked under her and rose from the pillows reaching for her. She raised her head, pushing him back and slapping away his grasping hands. 

Switching to English, for he loved to hear her accented English, she repeated phrases he often used to her during lovemaking: “I’m going to ruin you. Going to make you come on my ... No, that was wrong, she didn’t have one of those. 

She tried again. “I’m going to ruin you”, said with a growl as he was wont to do, her accent rolling the r. 

Did he just laugh? 

This wasn’t going the way she thought it would. Undeterred, she knew how to get his attention. Placing her hands either side of her neck, under her hair, she raised her hands lifting her hair high, exposing her pert breasts and flat stomach. 

She twisted her hair and placed it over one of her shoulders. 

She could see his face flush with desire, and once again he was moving forward to grasp her. 

She pushed him backwards, putting her mouth once more onto his penis, both hands around it now, mouthing the tip then sucking, drawing her teeth lightly over the smooth tip. 

Kylo groaned and juddered under her. She could now see what the Breton women meant about this act of lovemaking. She suddenly felt very powerful, controlling this massive, dangerous man just by putting her lips _there_. 

She went to work in earnest then, Kylo groaning and bucking under her. His hand reached out to bury itself in her hair, guiding her. He began to utter low words of encouragement. 

Then: “Rey, stop, I’m coming.” 

Too late, he had ejaculated, but she kept her mouth around him even as he tried to pull her off, swallowing his seed. He sank back against the pillows and she held on tight to him, squeezing as he chased the aftershocks of his orgasm, watching as his hips thrust up against her grip. 

At last he quietened and she hopped off the bed to rinse her mouth at the washstand. 

Returning to their bed, she found him propped up against the pillows one hand over his eyes. 

She pulled the sheet up over them, nestling once more against his chest, her hair covering them, feeling very pleased with herself. 

His arms encircled her, pulling her into his body. She slid her leg in between his once more, stretching out her hand – ‘little Kylo’ was soft and still now. 

“We need to talk about this” he rumbled. 

“Tomorrow, love, tomorrow.” 

He reached down and kissed her forehead. 

“Tomorrow, sweetheart, he agreed. Goodnight.” 

She was already asleep. 

He drifted off to the soft snores of his wife and dogs, content, but with a question for her for the morrow. 

The room wrapped itself around the sleepers, once more cloaking them in blessed peace.


	11. Chapter 11

She is pretty sure Finn is in love. 

The harvest had gone smoothly, though the work was hard, the household and the Bretons laboured early morning and again in the relative cool of the evening into the night – lit by a Harvest Moon. 

She had caused a sensation amongst the English by appearing in trousers and a long green surcoat, crossbow in hand, with the intention of killing any rats which dashed out of the wheat as it was cut. 

Eventually, Finn and Dopheld tore their eyes away, studiously not looking at her long, shapely legs and equally shapely derriere – occasionally exposed by the parting of the surcoat’s panels. 

Her husband recovered first, quickly crossing to her, wrapping her in his arms and bestowing a claiming kiss on her lips in full view of all. The older Bretons switched from french to their own tongue, consensus among them evident in their appreciative smiles and the back slapping of the younger, unmarried men, who dipped their heads - blushing. 

That her attire was worn primarily for utility, rather than titillation, was borne out when the Bretons went to tie twine around the bottom of the English knights trousers, causing confusion. M’sieur Alexandre explained that it was to stop the rats running up their trouser legs in panic as the cutting of the wheat disturbed them. 

She had also impressed the knights with her proficiency with the bow, and Kylo, had he had any doubts, was assured that had she wanted to aim at Plutt’s heart rather than his shoulder, she would have aimed true. 

The Bretons stayed until the stubble had been burnt off and it was with sadness the Les Romarins household waved them off, though with the promise of their return next year. 

+++++ 

There was only a brief hiatus after their departure, during which the apple and pear harvest was sold at a fair profit and the wheat at a very good one, before they were preparing for a service of thanksgiving and tithing at the bishop’s palace which was to be followed by a banquet for the local landowners. 

Sheaves of wheat was formed into decorations and embellished with ribbons to display before the altar in thanksgiving, and produce put aside to be distributed between the church and the poor of the parish. 

The three ladies of the house had new dresses to finish sewing – Marie-Claude in green, Tallie in deep blue and Rey in yellow. Rey’s embroidery embellished all three dresses – her own dress had sunflowers embroidered around the neck and cuffs. 

The manor locked up, sulking, unhappy dogs left in the courtyard, the household set off for the palace – Finn and Dopheld riding. 

Marie-Claude was beside herself with excitement. Although she and Tallie would dine with the household servants, she had a new dress and would surely be the pet of the female servants of the bishop. 

At the service of thanksgiving there was a new face, a young widow, Kaydel Connix, a pretty blonde of twenty two. She had been married young to a much older man. Recently bereaved, she had inherited a considerable estate as well as her own marriage portion. It was believed Plutt was interested in her, but it was inconceivable she or her guardians would even consider him. 

She had approached the abbey church’s door at the same time as the Les Romarins party. Finn, who was slightly ahead of them clutching Marie-Claude’s hand, bowed elegantly before her, allowing her to enter the church first, holding out a steadying hand as she mounted the stone steps, the train of her dress threatening to overset her. 

Finn’s eyes were a warm brown and mostly held a kind expression; the young widow looked into them and professed herself agreeable to any courtesy he would offer her. He bade Marie-Claude hold up the too long train and presented his arm for Kaydel’s support. Rey, following behind leaning on her husband’s arm, interestedly watched the effect of this courtesy on the young widow and, by the time she reached the doorway of the abbey church, concluded that a mutual attraction had been established. 

Finn escorted Kaydel to the seat reserved for her at the front of the church, Marie-Claude acting as train bearer, and bowed after he settled her comfortably. Rey noted the shy dip of the young woman’s eyes, the pink blush colouring her cheeks, and the murmured ‘thank you, m’sieur’ with accompanying fleeting, upward glance through her lashes and drew her own conclusions. 

She was so carried away by the notion of a romance and marriage between the two, she ended up squeezing her husband’s arm so tightly he looked down at her concerned and asked “What is it, sweetheart?” 

Colouring, she apologised and passed it off, but continued to watch their interaction – ensuring no-one sat between Finn and Kaydel. She saw her husband’s puzzled looks at her machinations but carried it off straight faced, head held high. 

At the end of service, assuming correctly Kaydel would also be at the banquet; she introduced the family of Les Romarins to her and manoeuvred her between herself and Finn as they walked back to the church door. 

The customary courtesies paid to Pere Antoine, standing at the door to bid the worshippers’ goodbye as officiating priest, she pushed Marie-Claude forward to once again take hold of the troublesome train and inwardly hummed with approval as Finn offered his arm as support down the treacherous church steps. 

Kylo had by this time realised that something was up and sent an enquiring look her way. She maintained her air of insouciance and took his arm for support down the steps. 

“Wife, he rumbled softly, what are you about?” 

“Husband, she murmured back, I know not what you mean.” 

A disbelieving ‘humph’ came back at her. 

She tilted her head and smiled sweetly into his downturned face then resumed her contemplation of the couple walking in front of her. 

Finn was about a head taller than Kaydel and, Rey mused, it looked quite intimate the way his head was inclined toward her, carefully listening to whatever she was saying. Rey noted with some satisfaction that Kaydel’s arm remained linked with his and remained so until they reached the entrance to the palace. 

At the door, he released her arm, bowing her into the interior, Marie-Claude still acting as train bearer. Following Kaydel into the foyer, he didn’t offer his arm again but remained by her side as they walked toward the Little Hall, which was the waiting area for the diners. Kaydel dismissed Marie-Claude with a sweet smile and a kind word, and the little girl beamed with happiness and curtseyed before making her way toward the kitchens. 

Rey excused herself from her husband’s company and followed – heading toward Amilyn’s office to enquire about the seating arrangements at the banquet. 

As a Kenobi, and a blood relative of the bishop, Rey was guaranteed her place at the top table along with Kylo as her husband. She saw that Finn was placed on one of the tables lower down, with Dopheld, far from where she would sit. 

Rey casually mentioned Finn’s status as an English earl, although of disputed legitimacy. Illegitimacy was no bar to inheritance in France – the Iron Duke himself was illegitimate by birth but the acknowledged legitimate heir to the Norman Dukedom as firstborn son. 

As she had anticipated, Amilyn was concerned at the social solecism toward a son of such a noble and ancient house in the proposed seating arrangement. Calling for the house steward, she hurriedly had another place set for Finn at the top table. With a little manoeuvring by Rey, Kaydel was seated at his left hand. 

Very pleased with herself, and not a whit bothered by Dopheld’s consigning to a lonely social wilderness, Rey rejoined her husband. 

Kylo was a physical lover rather than a romantic one, but even he had figured out his wife’s stratagems by the time she returned to him. With his own hands he seated her at table taking the opportunity to whisper ‘ _monster_ ’ into her ear. She beamed at him as he took his place beside her as though he’d given her a great compliment. 

Finn looked taken aback as the house steward sat him to the left of the bishop, Armand being sat to the bishop’s right. He recovered, however, and took his place gracefully, looking very pleased as Kaydel took her place to his left. 

The bishop rose when all were seated and offered up grace and thanks for the harvest. As he settled back in his seat, the house steward nodded and the musicians began to play as wine and ale were served to the diners. 

Her uncle was a good host and kept a large staff of household servants, the food and drink served was therefore both plentiful and well prepared. Between each course those at high table and the tables immediately below, were offered bowls of warm scented water to dip their fingers in to clean off any grease or sauce, in addition to linen napkins being provided. 

Rey noticed her uncle eventually turn to Finn, engaging in a deep and prolonged conversation. She guessed it was about his status, the house steward having only managed a brief, whispered debriefing to his master. 

She noticed, with secret satisfaction, that Kaydel was listening intently to the history too. When her uncle turned his attention the Armand, Kaydel, whose back was toward her, must have smiled at him, for she saw Finn’s face soften and his eyes drop to what she guessed were Kaydel’s lips, leaning into her and conversing so softly with her even Rey’s sharp ears couldn’t pick up a word. 

She felt a pressure on her hand and turned to find her husband regarding her owlishly. 

“Wife, I have me a complaint against you.” He leaned toward her as he spoke, “Will you hear it?” 

She laughed. “What is it, husband?” 

“That of neglect, wife” he replied. 

She laughed once more and brought her hand to his cheek pulling his face forward lovingly. 

“Then I must petition for forgiveness, Milord. Do you forgive it?” 

She looked into his eyes, her own taking in the details of his beloved face. Dark eyes set in a long, pale face dotted with moles and beauty marks. She ran a hand over these, fingers gently tracing their pattern, then down the patrician nose and, finally, to the full red lips, drawing her forefinger across the bottom lip. His eyes closed, eyelashes fluttering, and then opened to reveal them darkened, pupils blown. 

“Do you forgive?” she asked softly. 

“I do, he murmured, and in our bed tonight I’ll grant absolution.” 

They leaned into one another then, foreheads touching, oblivious of the crowded dining hall. 

She was still conscious of the wish to help Finn, but, reminded that she had a love of her own to tend, kept her attention on Kylo until they rose from table. 

+++++ 

Dinner at last being over, Rey had another difficulty to negotiate, that of greeting Armand. Clearly, he was just as aware of the awkward feeling between them as he had managed to slip into his place at the table unobtrusively, rather than directly accompanying her uncle. 

She could assure him that all was as before, but knew he’d know it for a lie – because if that were true there wouldn’t be the consciousness now evident in her behaviour toward him. 

She settled on brevity. 

As her cousin led them out of the Great Hall, she nodded to Armand as she stood back to allow Finn and Kaydel to precede her, Kylo’s hand comfortingly placed against her hip. 

There was a break in festivities as the servants readied the Great Hall for dancing and entertainments, and guests took the opportunity to relieve themselves. A select few joined the bishop in his library for a glass of clairet and to exchange gossip. 

Rey was aware that many of her neighbours would have heard of her marriage, even that she had redeemed her husband from the gallows, but not that he was nobly born and therefore a highly eligible partner for her. His association with a Neville could only do them both good she felt. 

It was her uncle who took pains to introduce both Kylo and Finn to the folks gathered in his library. They were the landed families of the district, or those connected to them, it was important to have their goodwill. 

Enquiries were soon made about the Neville name and the connection with the earldom was quickly made. 

For centuries England and France had exchanged wellborn brides and bridegrooms, their cultures intermingling even to the English and french kings. Some lines of the nobility had held land in both England and France and had had to choose which estate to hold on to and which to sacrifice because of the struggle between the Capetian king of England and the Valois french king over the right to the french throne. 

Finn’s father and grandfather had been major players in Anglo-French history; both were revered as knights in the French chivalric tradition. That he had fought in the service of the Prince of Wales, in behalf of the English king, did him no disservice - only that he had fought honourably and treated according to the chivalric code. 

In the Anglo-French medieval world, money was nothing compared to bloodline and dynasty, and the Neville bloodline (as Earls of Warwick) had the potential to make and destroy kings. 

Finn and Kylo, standing in her uncle’s library richly dressed and beautifully groomed, did away with any taint that they may have fought as mercenaries. Rather, they were accepted as scions of noble houses, carefully bred and as carefully coached in the obligations of their name. 

Rey, catching Armand’s eye, saw a snarl of dissatisfaction at their positive reception cross his face. Catching her eye, he as quickly smoothed it over and retreated just a little more into the shadows of the room, listening but not contributing to the animated gossip. 

Kaydel stood close to Finn throughout the reception and Rey caught the knowing looks cast toward them. If the widowed young woman chose the English knight, and the golden spurs he was wearing proclaimed the knight, she had chosen well was the consensus. She was obeying her dynastic imperative: hold what she had and increase it if she could. What more could be asked of a daughter – save the begetting of a son and heir? 

Undoubtedly the young man had the means to support a wife and held out the possibility to one day make her a countess, and a very powerful one at that. Yes, many of the interested guests mused, a note dash off on the morrow to congratulate her de la Mare paternal grandfather and uncle and her La Hire maternal grandfather on the wisdom apparent in the young woman ... it was always prudent to let such persons as these know of the goodwill of friends. 

The atmosphere of bonhomie in the room was very marked and Rey, for one, was glad of it. Finn may very well return to England one day, but Kylo would make his home in France, at Les Romarins, in the district of Theed, among these good folk. 

+++++ 

They set off for home before night fell absolutely; a new moon offering some light, though the gelding knew the road so well, barring some unforeseen circumstance, its poor light wasn’t needed. 

Finn had taken lingering farewell of Kaydel, who was due to return to the protection of her La Hire grandfather within days. There had been whispered conversation, then he had brought her hand to his lips turning it to bestow his kiss against her palm. She had blushed prettily as he bid her a soft adieu. 

+++++ 

The dogs were ecstatic to have them home, leaping up, whimpering, making sounds indicative of pure joy upon seeing them – greeting them as though they had been away for a twelvemonth rather than eight hours. 

The little family bid each other goodnight, each one of them having their own bubble of happiness to wrap around them. 

Kylo’s bubble of happiness was kneeling naked in the centre of their bed watching him undress. He had carefully undressed her, kissing along every expanse of exposed flesh as revealed to him, sending her to bed with a tweak to her breasts and a slap to her firm bottom. 

There had been an incident at the palace as he returned to the Great Hall from relieving himself. A buxom married woman had ambushed him, her predatory look and the thrusting of her breasts against his chest signalling her intent. He was trying to get away from her without hurting her when his wife found them. Her body language as she walked toward them reminding him of a belligerent hound – gait stiff legged and hackles risen. 

The woman was trying to cup his crotch as his wife reached them, telling him in explicit language what she wished from him. It was reminiscent of certain ladies at the prince’s court, their outward respectability proving but a veneer for their harlotry, they had wanted to use his body too. To use him, to share him even, in what became for him soulless rutting. It was one of the reasons he stayed with a free company rather than return to the prince’s court in Aquitaine between chevauchee. For a while, until his wife, it had killed his libido. 

Now his wife was tapping the woman’s shoulder, pushing her back, finger jabbing against her chest. She had told the woman to be on her way, adding a crude, idiomatic phrase. The woman had gasped and scuttled away, red-faced and shamed. 

Rey, turning back to him, eyes blazing with fury, mouth thinned, had looked at him and caught something of his distress and self-loathing at the resurrecting of degrading, unwanted memories within him. His wife cancelled out the past and made him feel clean. That woman had not. 

‘Sweetheart, she had said, I’m here now. I’ve got you.’ Looking earnestly into his eyes she held one of his hands and cupped his cheek lovingly. ‘Do not let one such as she upset you.’ 

He had reached down to her then, his free arm drawing her to him, bending down to kiss her behind her ear as her arm slid around his neck. 

Now they were private and he could worship her as she deserved. He knew his body looked good at the moment, the hard, physical labour he had been engaging in, wood cutting and harvest, had restored the hard muscle to his upper body and arms. He preened a little as he removed his shirt, wanting to please her and show off a little to increase her anticipation. For no other woman would he do this now – just her. 

Naked at last, he approached her, the candlelight softening the paleness of his skin, the kinetic light casting flattering light and shade across his torso. 

Did his wife just lick her lips? 

He reached her and reached for her. She met his lips in a deep kiss, arms sliding round his neck, fingers buried in his hair. He broke the kiss only to climb onto the bed with her, adjusting his erection to lie against her inner thighs as he covered her body and sought her lips once more, tangling his legs with hers. 

He worked her body, getting her ready for him – more than ready, in fact, judging by her movements and wetness and how she was stroking his erection, squeezing him and thumbing the tip. Since the visit of the Bretons she was much less inhibited about touching him intimately. 

He untangled himself from her intending to come to rest between her legs and enter her. “No, love, she whispered, let me make love to you.” 

“Sweetheart, no, he rumbled, believing she meant to take him orally, let me do this.” 

She pushed him away then, pulling away toward the bank of pillows. He looked at her petulantly. She was kneeling again, beckoning him, holding out her hand. 

“Come, love, come.” 

She pressed him back against the pillows banked behind him and, as he anticipated, took his penis in her mouth. 

“No, love, no” he protested. This wasn’t what he wanted. 

“Hush” she pressed a slim finger against his mouth. 

He settled back in compliance, but did not touch her, cursing the responsiveness of his body to her ministrations. Then she surprised him, straddling him and putting his penis between her thighs, the tip lodged against her sex. 

She leaned in and kissed him, hands at his neck, thumbs against his chin. She pulled back, looking at him lovingly and reached between them to part her folds and guide him inside her – because of his length it took a little manoeuvring, but then she was sinking down on him. 

Maker she felt good – he was deep within her. She leaned forward to kiss him tenderly once more and started moving. 

He knew she must be working on instinct as he’d been careful to preserve her innocence in carnal matters, not wanting his past sexual history to taint her. He wanted no wanton for a wife, especially not a wanton of his making. Her mixture of passion and prudery were intoxicating to him, reviving in him the true passionate desire for sex he had known as a young man before the harpies at the prince’s court had ruined him – and he had ruined them. 

He moved his hands to clasp her hips and her slim hands gripped his shoulders. He murmured encouragement and instruction to her. A rhythm established, he relaxed back against the pillows watching her through half lidded eyes, ready to exercise dominance and bring them both to climax. 

He watched her face soften and her eyes close. Seconds after, he felt the build up in himself as she rhythmically clenched and released him, pert breasts bouncing as she rode him. Then her eyes opened, unfocused, and he recognised the signs of her climax starting to build. He lowered his hands to cup her buttocks, increasing the pace wanting, if he could, to climax with her. 

“Rey, he found himself calling out, I’m close.” 

“Me too”, she sobbed back. 

He came with a grunt as she climaxed and called out his name. He gathered her into his arms, holding her close, softly kissing her temple. She tasted of rosewater and sweat under his tongue. 

As his penis softened and slid out of her, he moved their position, draping her across his chest, her hair spread out over them. 

Candles extinguished, the only light the tiny oil lamp burning on the washstand, they whispered their goodnights to each other and drifted into sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Kaydel had attended the bishop’s banquet in behalf of her La Hire grandfather, with whom she was currently living. However, accepting the invitation had also signalled that she was ready to remarry, in particular if she could attract the notice of Armand, Comte de Theed. 

With regard to the Comte, she had met with disappointment. His notice of her could at best be described as indifferent and was chilly enough to convince her he wanted no wife – at least not her as wife. 

While there was no monetary necessity for her to remarry, as a young widow it was advisable that she did. As Rey had discovered, it was better to choose than be chosen. 

While she hadn’t obtained an absolute promise from her guardians that she could marry whom she pleased, unless she was in danger of contracting an obvious _mesalliance_ , she was sure she could gain their approval of her preferred choice. However, she must move quickly as they would not let her remain unmarried indefinitely and would take matters into their own hands if she tarried. 

Her first husband had been over twenty years older than her and she had been joined to him age seventeen. He had been kind and doting, but she had never loved him and had submitted to him out of duty to her family. She hoped to remarry someone closer to her own age; Armand was older, true, but only by twelve years and was personable. 

The interaction with the household of Les Romarins had been enlightening. Finn’s kind attentions had been welcome, but her heart was guarded – she would not marry to disoblige her family. Then, however, she had discovered that in terms of breeding he was Armand’s equal, if not superior. It was both unfortunate and shameful how he had been denied his birthright, but need that remain a permanent state of affairs? When she returned home, she would consult with her family heads and seek counsel and advice. 

She was not entirely hard headed about the matter, she found Finn personable and kind and his attentions attracted her to him. His courtesy and concern for her comfort was familiar to her, being in the chivalric tradition of her uncle and grandfathers and she warmed to it. 

Her observations of the marriage of Finn’s English friend to a Frenchwoman had been enlightening too. Were all English husbands so devoted, so uxorious? 

The tall knight seemed besotted by his wife, a tiny thing relative to him. Rey was younger than herself, Kaydel believed, and her English husband quite a few years older, but their relationship was quite different to what Kaydel had experienced in her marriage. 

Rey walked with her arm linked with her husband’s for support, but seemed to lead him. When she spoke in company he listened with rapt attention to every word she uttered, standing by her side head inclined so he viewed her face. When she spoke to him the expression in his face and eyes softened, his full lips quivering responsively as though about to kiss her as he listened intently. 

They seemed to be constantly touching too, nothing inappropriate but clearly they were lovers. Their interaction coalesced Kaydel’s own wishes: within the constraints imposed on her by her family, she too longed for a companion who would be her husband, lover and friend as was clearly the case with the Ren’s. 

She decided to fix her interest with Finn as much as she could before consulting her uncle and grandfathers, not wanting to disappoint him or cause him pain of heart if they objected, or risk her own heart unnecessarily. She felt, though, that if they absolutely forbade it she would lose peace of mind and find it hard to submit to their wishes a second time 

She had been escorted to the bishop’s palace by a troop of her grandfather’s men at arms, (keeping her personal maid with her who slept in her room), delivered to the care and protection of the bishop until they returned in the next few days. Until then, she determined to leave Finn with as favourable an impression as she could. 

+++++ 

While Kaydel was determining her future with some optimism; the Comte de Theed’s mood was souring by the minute. 

He had berated himself for losing control with Rey, criticising her choice of husband to her face had been a gross error. Thinking about her in the arms of another man had tested his self control, her confiding that Plutt had tried to abduct and rape her more than once broke it. He made the connection immediately – she had married a soldier of fortune to protect her virginity from Plutt, sacrificing it to someone equally unworthy. Too late he realised not only had he insulted her he had frightened her, his jealousy all consuming. 

When she had parted from him, twirling her whip in a gesture of farewell and not looking back, his rage had spiked once more. She had turned her back on him, he who had taken the necessary steps in order to be free to marry her when her uncle released her from his direct care. He burned with the injustice of it. 

He was furious with Plutt, her husband, himself at not going to her and confessing his love once he was free. He had dug his spurs into his horse and pushed on to Paris, nearly killing the animal under him. 

Eventually he had calmed down and set agents to work making enquiries about the English knight. He had ground his teeth when he found out he was nobly born, with royal blood too – though from a cadet line. 

His ears pricked up when he heard he’d cast off his family. What would Rey make of that fact he wondered, knowing how much Rey longed for family and witnessing her recent grief at Aimee’s passing? In fact her grieving had caused him to delay making his desires known to her, foolishly he now believed, allowing her a period of mourning. 

Because he’d blundered, nothing he’d heard could be twisted or made use of, Rey by her body language and demeanour at the banquet had made it clear things had changed materially between them. She didn’t even bother to dissemble he noted. 

The sight of her with her husband added to his sense of alienation and estrangement from her. The marriage was an intimate one and not one of convenience judging by the physical closeness between them. The English knight was obviously her lover and her husband, the signs were unmistakable that he had awoken her sexually; duty and submission clearly had no place in their union. 

To dwell on these things threatened to overset him and while she was before him he could settle his mind on nothing else. He therefore took leave of Lor San Tekka the earliest he could without causing offence. To his surprise, the bishop made no attempt to delay his departure merely thanked him for coming and wished him safe journey. 

Once on the road his rational mind reasserted itself. If Rey was lost to him, and it seemed she was, he must concentrate for a while on not seeing her. Undoubtedly she would make it easy for him he thought wryly. He would need to be in Theed over Christmas; meanwhile he would remove with his sons to his residence in Paris. 

A thirst for revenge was still hot within him and its recipient was Plutt. Even more than himself he blamed Plutt for the loss of Rey. Plutt, he thought savagely, was the architect of his present misery ... and he would make him pay. 

+++++ 

Rey awoke clasped to her husband’s chest; one arm wrapped around her waist the other capturing her in a loose choke hold. She ought to get out of bed, she ought but she wouldn’t, not today when she felt so warm of body and heavy of limb. 

She was also feeling rather pleased with herself for surprising her husband with her lovemaking. 

The propositioning of him had infuriated her, but she had caught his distressed expression and rushed to comfort him knowing he had not sought that loose woman’s attentions. 

His reaction had surprised her. Perhaps he had not had as many lovers as she supposed? Perhaps his gift of lovemaking was a gift all men shared? 

She had wanted to comfort him with her body, to reassure him it was with love she sought his. Also, she found taking the initiative in their lovemaking made her feel powerful, more confident that she could keep him satisfied so he wouldn’t take another – a nagging thought that caught at her in quiet moments, the words of the Breton woman having pierced deep, tapping into her fear of abandonment. 

He stirred against her back and she gently stroked his forearm to soothe him back into sleep. He shifted slightly, burying his face into her hair before stilling once more. 

She thought of Armand. Although she had not discussed his actions further with Kylo, she had thought over the events of that day and had drawn her own conclusions as to his behaviour. 

Although he had behaved impeccably while she was his ward, she had over the past weeks reinterpreted certain looks and actions of his over the years. It had led her to the conclusion that he wanted her. She shivered involuntarily and the grip around her body tightened and she felt lips press to her neck moving toward her ear. 

She tried cajoling him back to sleep, but soft breaths were now being blown across her neck causing her to shiver for an entirely different reason – the beast was awake! 

+++++ 

During the course of the morning, Rey invented an entirely spurious reason for visiting Amilyn that very day. 

“Certainly, wifey” replied her husband when she shared this with him, until he heard he was not her preferred escort. He then outright forbade Finn to accompany her, which led to a bout of cajolery that exhausted her. 

When she realised he was playing her, she launched herself at him, he, laughing, caught her hands and kissed her soundly. Then he’d gotten very serious and asked her to do nothing to encourage the match. 

“My love, sweetheart, we were meant to be. Finn and Kaydel, if they are meant to be, will be without interference from you or me or anyone. Promise me you’ll see Amilyn and then return home without trying to matchmake.” 

She stilled in his arms looking into his eyes and, seeing the sincerity and worry there, promised. 

“May I invite her here, Monseigneur?” 

He caught the use of the honorific and knew she would defer to him. 

“Sweetheart, just give a general invitation. Leave it to her to decide whether to visit or not.” 

She nodded, turning her face to be kissed. He then helped her into her cart, swinging Marie-Claude up onto the seat beside her with a basket of bits and pieces for Amilyn. 

He watched them go, his face pensive and a little worried. He appreciated that his wife wanted Finn as settled and happy as they were, but better than her he knew the opposition Finn would face if he ever returned home to claim his birthright. 

A marriage with Kaydel, and the possibility of being backed by the powerful de la Mare and La Hire families, would bring forces against his friend his wife could not anticipate. Lady Neville, having committed fraud and perjury, would not hesitate to employ a more crude methodology to ensure her teenage son kept his usurped title of earl. 

As he walked back to the house, he determined to spend time with his friend and seriously discuss his future prospects. He must also explain to his wife just what Finn and Kaydel might face in attempting to reclaim the title. 

+++++ 

Four days after the service of thanksgiving and subsequent banquet, the escort from her grandfather had not arrived and Kaydel was beginning to wonder at its delay. 

Of course, she was not inconveniencing the bishop or his household, and her status meant she could enjoy his hospitality as long as she chose, but it was unusual for plans to be changed without notifying her. 

Meanwhile, she had taken advantage of the delay to further her acquaintance with the family of Les Romarins, Rey having called the day after the festivities, escorted by Finn, to deliver something to Amilyn and issuing a general invitation to visit and take pot luck with them any time she chose. 

Seeing Finn again reaffirmed her attraction to him and the notion that something more than a dynastic marriage might be achieved. She arranged to come to Les Romarins the next day – Rey would collect her the next morning and return her in the evening. 

Being with the Les Romarins family was enlightening. She was walked a little ways around the property hearing of the plans for future development, and although the dining table had been set up in the Great Hall, the atmosphere and arrangements were very much _en famille_. She was properly chaperoned at all times and was therefore able to observe and interact with Finn without being self conscious. 

One change was that the bishop accompanied Kaydel, bringing with him two servants to manage the kitchen and supplies from his own larder. He also changed the length of the visit – Kaydel and he would stay overnight. 

After supper, Kaydel ensconced in the cushioned nook, chairs were set around the fire and a lute and Dopheld’s harp brought out – Dopheld and Rey being musically trained. The bishop was seated at a small table, challenging Kylo and Finn alternately at chess – a game he loved but had too few opportunities to play against worthy opponents. 

Dopheld and Rey sang together as they played and Kaydel, looking on, caught again the atmosphere of completeness a happy union could fill a home with. 

The tall knight joined his wife for a final duet before conversation and gossip ended the evening and Kaydel was struck again at the intimacy between the two. No touches were exchanged, but once more Kaydel felt within herself that tug of wanting to be part of something as meaningful and important. 

She departed the next morning full of ideas and wishes, to await the escort taking her home, able to sincerely thank Rey and Kylo for their hospitality and believing the foundation of strong friendship had been established. 

All three knights accompanied them to the palace, needing to exercise their high bred horses, the dogs running free before them. 

Kaydel had chuckled over Rey’s relationship with the two reprobates, as she called Bail and Beru, alternately scolding or petting them – depending whether they were on the hunt for extra scraps or nuzzling her hands begging for her caresses. 

All in all, regardless of the thwarting of her initial plan, she considered her visit to Theed to have been a productive one. 

+++++ 

To her surprise, her de la Mare uncle arrived just before dinner on the fourth day, accompanied by only a small retinue. 

He looked at her warmly, which surprised her, and embraced her – placing a kiss to either cheek. He was not usually so effusive with her in his greeting, it was ... puzzling. 

After dinner he excused himself and accompanied the bishop to his library where he remained for most of the afternoon. She was sent for and discovered the reason for his display of affection. 

“Well, niece, he began, it seems you have not been idle in your sojourn here.” 

“Have I not uncle? Hopefully in a way that has ... pleased you?” 

She spoke tentatively, having no idea of his meaning. 

He gave one of his rare laughs. 

“You’re very coy, Mam’selle. Still, it’s best to be cautious so early in negotiations. I see you have inherited the de la Mare prudence.” 

She lowered her eyes, not wanting to give away her absolute confusion as to his meaning. 

“Kind friends, he nodded to the bishop, have informed us that you have attracted the attention of an English milord.” 

Ah, clarity at last. 

“Uncle, I have not been forward, I assure you. There have been but two meetings and conversation. I purposely held back until I had opportunity to consult with my family.” 

“Of course not, you are a de la Mare and therefore know what you owe to your family. Nevertheless, the bishop and other friends wrote and told me the earl seemed much taken with you.” 

“Uncle, he has not been able to claim his title.” 

“I am aware. However, I have spoken with your grandfather and he assures me the earl’s mother was a Christian and the whole thing succeeded because the english king looked the other way – his son, the Prince, intervened I believe, knowing the lie, but could only do so much.” 

“Uncle, you are very well informed.” 

“It is the duty of your family, he replied seriously, to protect and guide you.” 

“Uncle, you anticipate, I believe, that Lord Neville will succeed to his birthright, but what if he does not succeed, would you still approve the match?” 

“Niece, I will not trouble you now with events your family and interested friends anticipate, let me say only this, the Prince of Wales made a great mistake not establishing his nursery earlier.” 

Puzzled, she submitted, knowing it would annoy him to question him further about his cryptic remark and wishing to keep in his good graces. 

He was pleased to notice her deference and continued. 

“I understand you paid a visit to Les Romarins? This is very good. Our host, smiling at the bishop, wishes to return the courtesy and invite Lord Neville to dine and make a short visit here.” 

Turning toward Lor San Tekka, “My niece and I are forever in your debt for your kind offices toward us.” 

Lor San Tekka inclined his head without speaking. He was content to leave the matter in the hands of the de la Mare’s, determined to offer his opinion judiciously. 

De la Mare turned once more to his niece. 

“Madame, you have your family’s permission to make yourself agreeable to Lord Neville – you have been married I don’t have to explain. However, make no promises; accept no proposal until you have consulted with me.” 

She bowed her head, “Yes, uncle, it will be as you wish.” 

He beamed at her. 

“To be Countess of Warwick - that is something. Your family wants you to know how proud they are of you. You will make a wise and prudent chatelaine, in the de la Mare tradition.” 

“Thank you, uncle” she murmured colourlessly. 

He was in high good humour. 

“Throughout their history, the Neville’s have often held the balance of power. Mark my words, niece, it will be so again. Yes, yes, it will be so again.” 

His face changed as though realising he had confided too much and she was allowed to kiss his hand upon her dismissal. 

She walked from the library her mind in turmoil. What did her uncle’s cryptic remarks signify? Yes, Finn was an excellent prospect for marriage, but her uncle seemed excited about some future event which would involve Finn and the Prince of Wales? 

She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. One thing for sure, she had just established her family had no intention of letting her choose her own husband. It was fortuitous then that Finn had come into her orbit. She shuddered to think what choice her uncle would have made for her had she not caught the interest of an English earl. 

Her steps had led her to a chapel kept for private devotions. She determined she would light a candle to the Virgin, she would ask for her intervention to ensure she would be Lady Neville. She would petition that she not be the bride of a man more than twenty years older than her - or anyone who her uncle considered a suitable match for a de la Mare.


	13. Chapter 13

When Lor San Tekka heard that his niece had rescued a felon from the scaffold and then married him, he was profoundly disturbed. He immediately planned to have the marriage annulled whether she agreed or not. 

It then occurred to him that she may have married a soldier of fortune as a protection against Plutt. The necessity of this puzzled him. Had he not been clear in his interdict? 

He immediately sent word to Plutt requesting his presence before him. Word came back that he was laid low with a fever through an infected wound. Lor San Tekka felt a frisson of rage pass through him - had he not been taken seriously, surely not? He sent again and this time demanded Plutt come see him, sending four of his armed liveried servants with the message to make his point. 

Plutt’s physical appearance was much changed when he at last obeyed the summons, an air of malaise clung to him and he wore the pallor of an invalid. An accident, it seemed, had befallen him and the wound had become infected. 

Lor San Tekka suspected much but could prove nothing. However, he grimly reiterated the sanctions he would impose on Plutt had his interdict been ignored. 

Finally done with the man’s assurances (and lies), and to relieve his feelings somewhat, he gripped Plutt’s right forearm firmly to end the interview, simultaneously squeezing his right shoulder – hard. He thought the man would die on the spot as his pallor turned grey before his eyes and he fainted. 

He watched him being carried out by his servants to a waiting litter, eyes narrowed in suspicion. The Lord knew what type of man his niece had married if a protector against Plutt had been her goal. 

He had delayed seeing her and her new husband until various reports he had requested were to hand. Upon reading them he had moderated his planned course of action. 

They contained a revelation. His niece, it seemed, whom he had never thought particularly ambitious, save with regard to Les Romarins, had caught, apparently without lures, a nobly born husband. One, moreover, who had some French royal blood pulsing through his veins. 

On the day of the interview with them, he determined that, were there the slightest hint of unhappiness with her choice, he would not hesitate to part them. They had both turned up smelling of April and May and caused him to once more moderate his plans. 

He had seen the subtle looks and touches that spoke of real affection between his petite niece and her intimidating husband and reached out to Lord Ren in friendship, alerting him to a possible impediment to his marital happiness. 

He had become aware of the Comte de Theed’s unhealthy interest in his niece almost too late. It had been a look given during mass he’d just happened to intercept, its message unmistakable. Armand, Comte de Theed, a married man with two babes, desired his fourteen year old niece; his fourteen year old niece on the cusp of puberty and living under the Comte’s protection. 

He had extracted her immediately, citing the need to have her taught estate management with a view to having her take up residence at Les Romarins. 

Instead he had kept her safe with him; putting her in the care of Frere Pierre-Marie in his absences with strict instructions she was never to be alone with the Comte de Theed. As an ex mercenary, Frere, or rather Papa as he became known, Pierre-Marie had needed no further explanation, knowing only too well the way of the world with its vices and virtues. 

He had seen to her education, but he had put six brothers in residence at Les Romarins to tend the estate, citing it as a retreat, concentrating on maintenance rather than expansion. 

He had made an arrangement with Aimee to have the company of Rey one day a month as a concession to them both. He wouldn’t allow a fixed day, but it always occurred when Armand was away from home and she was retrieved before darkness fell. 

+++++ 

In the months up to the festival of thanksgiving, he had heard reports from different sources about the obvious, deepening affection between his niece and her husband; an affection which increased exponentially with each passing month, and was most visible the night of the banquet. 

His niece had surprised him again with some minor politicking, rearranging his top table to accommodate the addition of an English earl who just happened to be in her company. One, moreover, who had been disinherited, apparently with the collusion of the English king, but who was undoubtedly the true heir. 

This said heir had then proceeded to attract the notice and interest of an heiress of the de la Mare family, visiting under his protection. A family always ready to expand its power and interests. 

He had assessed the young man and found him acceptable in all the ways that matter. Having taken Kaydel’s confession, he was aware that she was conflicted between a desire to please her family and nurturing a longing to make a second marriage based on mutual affection. 

When the palace was quiet, all having gone to bed, he had sat up penning a letter to Raymond de la Mare, uncle of Kaydel, placing certain known facts before him. He had despatched a rider early in the morning to deliver it. 

+++++ 

It was the usual custom of princes to marry as soon as they could, choosing a bride from another royal house, or of the highest aristocracy, based on political need and expediency. They then took the bride, or groom, to their beds in the hope of siring a son and heir – thereby securing their family line. 

This was the accepted order of things and was the template throughout the Christian world at that time, and for centuries to come – regardless of sexual preference. 

The current Prince of Wales had deviated from this template, not marrying until the age of thirty one, and marrying a much married woman with children from her second marriage. A commoner too, although there was a degree of consanguinity as a papal dispensation had to be applied for to ensure the legitimacy of any heirs – albeit belatedly, the deed already being done. 

Unusually, his father, the king, had not objected to the match and had not seemed to urge his son to marry earlier – in the prescribed tradition. 

Significantly, the common people derisively liked to refer to the prince’s wife as the Virgin of Kent – the lady had a past. 

Four years into the marriage a son was born, a second son being born two years later. 

Alas, before the firstborn had achieved five years he had passed, leaving only the younger son, a child of three years, living. 

There were no more children born to the couple. 

In part this was due to the age of the lady, however, du Guesclin, captured and then ransomed and released, had given his opinion that the prince had contracted a chronic illness – namely dysentery, or the bloody flux. 

For a man like the prince, a degree of health could be maintained because of access to costly medicines and the very best of doctors. It was remembered that on two occasions recently, within a year, the English king had sent his own surgeon to France to treat the prince. 

However, dysentery was a chronic condition, over time sapping the vital energy of a man, undermining him by inexorable degrees. 

The prince’s three younger brothers had been more prudent, establishing their nurseries as soon as they were of an age to take a wife. They had proved to be fecund, particularly with regard to sons - sons older than the prince’s surviving child, ripe and ready to rule. 

+++++ 

Raymond de la Mare was a little surprised to receive the letter from the bishop. He broke the seal and smoothed out the several pages covered in the bishop’s elegant script and began reading – growing more fascinated by the minute. 

When he finished reading he sat back in contemplation for several minutes then reread the whole thing slowly. At the end of the second reading he stood and went in search of his father. 

“Papa, he called out as he entered his father’s chambers, is it possible to be private with you? Do I disturb you?” 

His father sat by the fire, dressed in a fur lined velvet robe. According to his custom, his sheathed sword lay across his knees. He had lived most of his life in the saddle fighting the English. 

He answered, “Not at all, my son.” 

Shrewd old eyes assessed him. 

“You have something important to tell me I think?” 

“I do Papa. May we be completely alone?” 

The old man nodded and his son dismissed the hovering attendants, taking care to close the door completely on them and fastening the catch so no-one could enter unexpectedly. 

His son drew up a chair beside him so they could speak without being overheard. 

“Speak, my son.” 

“Papa, I have received a letter from Lor San Tekka.” 

The old man nodded, waiting expectantly. 

“Perhaps it’s best if I read it to you?” 

“Yes, my son. Read it to me.” 

The old man’s reaction to the letter was the same as his son’s. He leaned back in his chair deep in thought and then bade him read it again. 

“So, Lor San Tekka’s niece is sheltering an important english aristocrat - a Neville, no less.” 

“Yes Papa, a Neville.” 

“And the Prince of Wales has dysentery, it is supposed. I have fought the English man and boy and I tell you, my son, I pity him. Better to die in battle than slowly succumbing inch by inch.” 

His son did not speak but instead watched as his father reached back into his memories. 

At last he revived. 

“Did you know, my son, the Neville’s once swore an oath to a baby?” 

“Papa, that sounds like quite a story.” 

Raymond was used to listening to reminisces of his father and knew better than to interrupt. 

“That was King John’s son. Mon Dieu, that man was a monster if ever there was one, taking the widow’s mite, fornicating with other men’s wives - turning nasty if their men objected.” 

“He tried it with a Neville woman; the old man gave a bark of laughter, he got the fright of his life, never tried to touch another one of their women. 

The old man began laughing, his voice merry with mirth. Raymond could not help smiling at the delight of his father in the reminiscence. 

“Yes, he went to bed full of himself. The lady in question under lock and key and sure to submit whether she will or no on the morrow ... and awoke to find the castle surrounded by Neville men with their affinity.” 

“He thought he could bluff them, threatened to throw her from the battlements if they didn’t depart. The elder Neville looked him in the eye and told him to do what he had to do – then he, Neville, would do what he had to do.” 

He laughed again. 

“What happened, Papa?” 

“Well, more of the Neville affinity kept arriving. When they drew up the siege engines he capitulated. Handed her over mostly unharmed, and untouched, then he begged for mercy.” 

“Three long days they stayed, giving him no answer. I was told he’d chewed his nails to the quick by the time he got it. He went to bed surrounded, with the camp fires burning showing how many men had amassed, then he was awoken to find they’d withdrawn silently in the night.” 

“As soon as he knew they’d gone, he got on a fast horse and rode for Windsor, deep in his own lands, and stayed there for weeks, too terrified to step foot out of Duke William’s tower.” 

“Well, things went from bad to worse with him; attacking the barons, undermining their rights, taxing them. He murdered his dead older brother’s son because he had a greater right to the English throne than he - with his own hands mind you - a boy of sixteen.” 

“That did it. His nobles banded together and sent to the king of France to invade and take the throne himself. There was a blood right, but it was done mainly to make mischief – he sent the Dauphin with an army.” 

“Yes, Papa, I remember you telling of this.” 

“You’re a good son, listening to your poor old Papa’s tales.” 

“No, Papa, I meant no disrespect.” 

“I know, my son, I know. I did but tease you.” 

The old man patted his son’s hand affectionately. 

“Well, John fled north with his infant son and the few men still loyal to him – to the Neville’s. He fell ill just short of their lands and took shelter in a monastery. All he had of value being that baby, his son, all else was lost.” 

“He sent to the Neville elder, begging him to come to him. Then he waited.” 

Raymond listened patiently as his father fell once more into introspection. 

“They came. They came in their usual way, silently. Stood and looked down on the dying king, waiting for him to speak.” 

“John begged them to save his son. Told them he was going to the seat of judgment and would no doubt pay heavily for his crimes, but his son, the innocent, didn’t deserve to eat from the same dish as he.” 

“They bid him bring the babe to them. In came the wet nurse with the baby swaddled up. They asked to see him and she took off the cloths and showed a healthy boy.” 

“The elder Neville got on both knees before that babe and held out one finger which the child grasped firmly. Neville swore the oath of allegiance to him, just as if swearing to an anointed king.” 

The old man shook his head, marvelling at such a thing. 

“Every Neville there then swore in the same manner. The baby was bound once more with the swaddling clothes and without a word the elder took the babe, and his nurse, and left the king to God.” 

“Neville gathered his men and marched south leaving the babe with his wife, the Countess, and the rest of the Neville women and a small garrison led by five knights – one of them the youngest Neville in arms, a boy of nineteen, I believe.” 

“The Dauphin split his forces. The larger force occupied London and an area south of the Thames, the other headed north for the Neville stronghold and the baby.” 

“Well, if they thought they could break the spirit of the Countess with a siege, they soon realised their error. The wit of a woman is often sharper than a sword and Neville’s choose their women well. She repelled each assault. It was settled when the french knights got entangled with each other on the bridge over the moat. Young Neville led a charge and the french knights were defeated, the rest fled.” 

“Meanwhile, the elder Neville entered London calling on the Londoners to expel the french invader. The king is dead, he shouted, long live the king! - calling them out onto the streets in the name of the infant king. And out they came, the Neville’s leading them through the city, over the bridges and into the french camp. The french troops scattered under the onslaught and the Dauphin, realising the tide had turned, gathered what was left and returned to France.” 

“The Neville’s watched over that child until the day he was declared of age and crowned. He quarrelled with many of his nobles, he was a difficult man like his father, but without his vices, however never with the Neville’s – he owed them everything. 

The old man’s voice went silent. Raymond crossed to a table and poured them both a glass of wine. They sat together, father and son, in companionable silence, watching the flames of the fire, each lost in thought. 

“So, resumed the old man, here we are four generations later and maybe, just maybe, a Neville will be needed again to protect a child king – this time from his uncles and their sons.” 

“Lor San Tekka believes so, Papa, and I agree it’s a possibility.” 

“What do we have to lose if Kaydel marries Neville?” 

“Well, Papa, it’s more what we have to gain. Hopefully, offspring who will always have claim to the earldom, and Kaydel settled with a husband and able to take up management of the estates Connix willed to her and what grandfather La Hire will no doubt leave her.” 

“My son, life has taught me to expect the unexpected, particularly with regard to the English.” 

“What do you propose, Papa?” 

The old man was lost in thought again, absentmindedly sipping his wine. 

“Journey to the bishop’s palace, take a small escort. Try not to attract too much attention to yourself. There will be others who will make the connections Lor San Tekka has made and will bring their daughters to Neville’s notice. I will write to La Hire and tell him of this opportunity and ask him to feign illness so you can say you have come for Kaydel in his stead.” 

“Praise Kaydel for her quick wit, let her know the union has our approval, but nothing must be done without you hearing of it first. No promise must be made without your approval. If we can, we’ll tie them together through a betrothal but withhold her until our way is clearer. Young men, like hawks and hounds, are best kept keen. If he wants her he will work harder to find a way to regain his birthright.” 

“Papa, you are so wise.” 

“As are you, my son, as are you.” 

They were both quiet once more, staring into the fire, sipping their wine. 

“Papa, Raymond broke the silence, do you think it’s true, the claim about Neville’s mother?” 

The old man shifted in his chair. 

“No, my son, I do not. Neville knew what he owed to his family. English law is quite different from ours. He would not have raised an illegitimate son to be his heir. No, he would have ensured his firstborn son would have had no impediment to inheriting.” 

“This is a calumny which has succeeded because of a greedy king who keeps an equally greedy mistress and chose to look the other way.” 

“What we have learned in the letter about the intervention of the prince in the matter gives me hope he will exert himself to have Neville reinstated before he goes to God.” 

“Papa, one thing puzzles me. Why do you think Lor San Tekka is exerting himself in this matter? I cannot see any benefit to him, except that he is truly our friend.” 

“Read me the letter again, please, my son.” 

Raymond carefully recapitulated the letter’s contents. 

“There, interrupted the old man, Lor San Tekka’s niece has married a Capet-Amidala, who has grown up with Neville. If Neville is exalted, San Tekka hopes so too the friend. The friend married to his niece. There is land to be claimed, I believe, and prestige to be regained.” 

“Then there’s no trap.” 

“Not that I can discern, my son. Just a family head doing what he ought and looking to establish his family securely in this world.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Levrette = greyhound. this is the elegant french way of expressing 'doggy style'.

Rey was feeling rather pleased with herself. 

The visit of Kaydel and her uncle had gone well, and she felt she was both helping Finn and respecting her husband’s wishes not to push for the match. 

Kaydel had clung to her a little before they parted and she felt too she had made a good friend. 

Although Les Romarins could not compete with the hospitality provided by her uncle, she had seen Kaydel relaxed and happy with the simple pleasures provided. In her mind’s eye she recalled the image of Kaydel tucked into the cushions of the nook, Beru pressed to her side, joining in the songs of the troubadours she and Dopheld played for the entertainment of the company. 

Finn seemed even more smitten after the visit - walking with a smile tugging constantly at his lips, and seemingly continually lost in pleasant thoughts. 

Now, however, her thoughts turned to her own concerns, namely, why she wasn’t pregnant in spite of all the enthusiastic lovemaking she and her insatiable husband indulged in. 

The day after the visit found her packing her basket with eggs and leftovers from the bishop’s larder and setting off for the house of Madeleine, the well respected midwife of Theed. 

All three knights escorted her, needing to exercise horses and dogs. They pressed on once she entered the house, a small street urchin watching the gelding. 

It took about twenty minutes to raise the subject of her fertility, Madeleine herself eventually taking the initiative – her shrewd eyes seeming to interpret her concerns just by looking at her. 

“Sometimes, Madeleine observed, it’s a question of the position used.” 

All Rey’s inhibitions surfaced with that observation and she flushed scarlet. 

“Position, you say” she stammered out. 

Madeleine looked at her owlishly. 

“Why, yes, say the man usually pleasures his wife as she lies on her back, Madeleine coughed delicately, and perhaps if she reverses that it can aid conception.” 

If possible, Rey’s face flushed deeper, her ears rivalling her husband’s in their reddened embarrassment. 

“Just suppose, began Rey, not wishing to admit to the intimacies she and Kylo practiced, just suppose a couple had done that and, and ... “ 

“Well, interrupted Madeleine, it would need to happen more than once.” 

Rey was starting to wish the ground would open up and swallow her. She decided to go for closure. 

“So, say a couple had done that more than once and it didn’t work what then?” 

“Well, I would say, if they were doing it regularly that way, there’s a good chance conception would happen. Also, a pillow beneath the wife’s hips when the husband mounts her would be advisable.” 

“Oh!” Rey hadn’t thought of that. 

The important thing, Rey, is that the wife doesn’t worry about conception, but seeks pleasure and comfort in her husband. These things happen when they happen. Worry can delay that happy day.” 

Rey nodded. 

“How long have you been married now?” 

“Five months.” 

Madeleine let go a peal of laughter. “Why, child, that’s no time at all. Really it isn’t.” 

Rey just wanted to bolt from the room. She felt she’d exposed her intimate life needlessly. Although she was sure of Madeleine’s confidentiality, nevertheless ... she began to stammer her excuses and apologies, edging toward the door. 

The tiny woman stepped forward and took hold of her hands. 

“Rey, your concerns are understandable, but I believe time will bring the blessing you seek.” 

Rey was practically incoherent by this time and just wanting to escape. 

As her hand grasped the door latch, Madeleine made her final remarks, uttered in a casual, offhand way. 

“That big boy of yours looks as though he knows how to please.” 

Rey felt like screaming. Why did everyone allude to Kylo having had previous lovers? 

“Perhaps you could ask him to make love ‘ _a levrette_ ’, _hein_?” 

Without thinking, Rey stuttered out “Yes, yes, I’ll do that”, and bolted out the door. 

She was so frazzled, she tipped the small boy minding the horse a veritable torrent of silver coins, hardly taking in his wide eyes and fevered ‘thank you, Madame, thank you’ before he ran off home with his fortune. 

It was only as she headed for home at a smart trot, quite opposite what she had arranged with Kylo, she began to envision ‘ _a levrette_ ’. 

She gasped, slackening the reins, imagining Kylo and she locked together like ... that! 

“Mon Dieu, she spoke to the gelding’s ears, I have misheard, surely.” 

No tension coming through the reins, the gelding voluntarily slackened his pace to a walk while Rey tried to erase the image of Kylo entering her from behind - simultaneously shocked and intrigued. 

“No, she continued in her rambling, eyes fixated on the gelding’s ears rather than the road, how would I ever ask him for that!” 

As she uttered these words, she felt a flutter of anticipation and the familiar jolting wetness which signalled arousal. ‘Why, oh, why, she lamented, had she not left well alone?’ 

She was almost home, the gelding maintaining his pedestrian pace while Rey’s thoughts ebbed and flowed around the absorbing subject, when she heard the sound of horses’ hooves moving swiftly on the road behind her. 

She gathered herself and the reins together and prepared to meet her husband’s eyes with perfect sangfroid. How she wished she possessed the phlegm of the English. 

“Why, love, her husband’s voice, veering between exasperation and laughter, did you forget our arrangement?” 

He had Silencer walking beside the cart, the big horse mincing to match the slow gait of the gelding. Finn and Dopheld passed by at the trot, touching their whips to their hats in salute as they passed, rapidly disappearing from view. 

Rey gave him to understand she had, eyes averted, a flush spreading over her cheeks. 

He leaned forward in the saddle, trying to catch sight of her lowered eyes. 

“Why love, he began again, what ails you?” 

She was saved by the two rumbustious hounds suddenly erupting, baying, from the undergrowth, effortlessly leaping into the cart and both immediately placing their front paws on the seat beside her, panting heavily and slobbering over her with wet kisses. She squirmed under their attentions, trying to push them both away, arms windmilling. 

The gelding surged forward with every intention of bolting at the thud of 140 pounds combined weight hitting the boards of the cart, accompanied by the frantic scrabbling of claws and hot panting of the two hounds and the mayhem which followed. Kylo crammed Silencer forward and grabbed the gelding’s bridle, his iron grip controlling the spooked animal. 

Order restored, he growled at the two to ‘lie down, now!’ and the pair collapsed on the boards of the cart still panting hard, tongues lolling out. 

His annoyance at them diverted his attention from Rey, and she was glad for the chance to cool her cheeks and school her face into a neutral expression. 

She commented on the dogs’ high boisterousness and he frowned saying he needed to work them harder. 

“Perhaps speak with my uncle, she advised, the hunting season will start soon, I’m sure he’d welcome the three of you to join his hunt.” 

“That would serve” he replied. 

Then they were home and she left the knights to sort out the horses while she started back to the house to compose herself. 

“Hey!” 

Kylo’s voice called to her and she turned as he walked quickly toward her. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something, wifey?” 

She looked at him in confusion. She had a hold of the basket. 

By this time he had her clasped in his arms, looking at her quizzically. 

“Rey, what is it, you seem distracted?” 

“Am I, she stammered? What did I forget?” 

“I don’t believe it, he laughed, my kiss, woman, my kiss!” 

He drew her to him, his lips to hers in a deep, wanting kiss. 

The image she’d been trying to rid herself of reasserted itself in all its vividness and she moaned. His grip tightened, one hand moving to grasp her bottom firmly and pull her against him. 

Dropping the basket, her hands went to his hair, gripping and tugging, their tongues entangled. 

“Hey, you two, came a shout from behind them, do you mind, we are of a nervous disposition!” 

Kylo raised his head, laughing and letting her go. 

“Into the house, with you, sweetheart, we’ll catch up later.” 

She turned, red faced, toward the house, receiving a smack to her behind as she bent to retrieve the basket. 

What a day! The dogs flew ahead of her, heading for the house, in need of water. 

“Thank you” she mouthed after them. 

+++++ 

Finn’s invitation to spend three days as the guest of the bishop was delivered late afternoon of the arrival of Raymond de la Mare. A day’s hunting was among the amusements offered. 

Whilst the messenger waited, drinking a glass of wine in the Les Romarins kitchen, Finn consulted with Kylo and Dopheld and wrote a brief note of acceptance adding a postscript, was it possible his fellow knights could join him? 

Within the hour, the messenger returned with an expanded invitation for the three. 

Rey felt hollow when she heard Kylo and Dopheld would be Finn’s supporters during the visit. Never had she thought she and Kylo would spend a night apart. 

She dropped into her characteristic quietness, not sulking but trying to rationalise how she was feeling with what she felt she owed to Finn and her husband’s friendship with him – no-one in any doubt the purpose of this invitation and the meaning of the presence of Raymond de la Mare. 

She busied herself, along with Tallie and Marie-Claude, in preparing the knights luggage. The three knights took themselves off to Finn’s quarters for discussion and strategic planning. 

She slipped into bed wearing a chemise – usually a sign of her menses being present. They weren’t, but she felt she didn’t want Kylo’s touch – the strong emotion of abandonment battling with her rational mind. 

Kylo accepted the wearing of the chemise at face value, his mind occupied by the morrow, pulling his wife to him and kissing her tenderly. She sometimes had cramps with the first day of her bleed and Kylo would cover her stomach and lower back with his large hands, the heat from them soothing. 

He asked her if she would like him to ease her cramps and she felt awful for the resentment she was carrying toward him for leaving her, even for such a short while. 

A few sparkling tears were shed by her, and if it wasn’t for having to explain the reason for her deception, (which she now considered selfish and hurtful), she would have dropped all pretence and made love to him. Instead, she kissed him tenderly and burrowed into his side, those strong arms of his encircling her body and clasping her tightly to him. 

+++++ 

The three horses were groomed to within an inch of their lives, and the knights mounted on them looked truly magnificent, each dressed in their best surcoat. Their heraldic badges of arms were embroidered on the left shoulder of their garments. 

Rey felt a mixture of pride and sadness looking upon them before they departed. 

Kylo took his left foot out of the stirrup and beckoned her to him. She put a foot into the stirrup as he bent and pulled her up to him for a last kiss. He backed Silencer away from her after he lowered her onto the roadway, and she joined Tallie and Marie-Claude to wave them off. 

Then they were gone, the dogs bounding after them, and she felt the hollowness and despair return. 

All day she was locked in an internal argument with herself, her mind busy and troubled, but try as she might, she couldn’t achieve the acceptance which would reconcile her with Kylo’s absence and grant inner peace. 

Then she crawled into the marital bed sans husband, sans dogs. 

Tallie and Marie-Claude took one look at her ravaged face the next morning and rushed to embrace her. 

That night she shared her bed with her maids, and the night after. 

+++++ 

While the three were absent, the ploughman and his assistant sent by her uncle arrived in a wagon pulled by oxen, plough onboard. There was too much land to go under the plough at once; the strategy was to increase the wheat acreage year on year, accelerating expansion as Les Romarins increased its earned income from the sale of grain – while retaining meadows for grazing and haymaking. This year they would plough to double yield. 

Dopheld was interested in breeding destriers, using Silencer as the sire and buying in three to four mares as dams. In principle, Rey was interested in the idea, but they would have to do costing. 

In her dreams, she imagined Les Romarins as it had been before the Great Pestilence swept Europe – twice it had visited with such vengeance hostilities had been suspended between the English and French kings as they neither had the manpower to maintain the struggle such had been the devastation. Whole villages were wiped out by the disease. She and her uncle were the last of their respective lines because of it. 

Seeing the land go under the plough, the promise of Les Romarins being more than it was previously, helped to sustain her in Kylo’s absence – a little. 

+++++ 

Kylo was not as oblivious of her sorrows as his wife supposed. He had seen the unhappiness in her face at their leave taking and her struggle to hide it. 

What he had not anticipated was his own equally strong sense of bereavement at leaving her behind – a constant, nagging sense of being incomplete. 

He fought it off during daylight hours, being busy in Finn’s concerns, but laid in bed by himself, he was so overcome with longing for her he considered saddling up Silencer and riding for home. Only the obligation he felt he owed to his brother in arms kept him within the walls of the palace. His family’s duplicity still weighed heavily upon him. 

He was up at dawn on the fourth day, his duty discharged, and made his way to Silencer’s stall, saddlebags in hand and dogs at his heels. 

The big horse was still a little tired from a day’s hunting, but caught his master’s excitement at going home and perked up. The dogs, too, had had a hard day’s hunting, but always seemed to have a reservoir of devilment to draw upon and danced around Silencer as Kylo put the bridle to him and saddled up. 

His horse and dogs were good companions. Silencer was used to their antics and mostly ignored their excesses, administering a well placed nip if they overstepped. Currently, as he was tightening girths and securing his saddlebags, Bail, with his obsessive love of having his belly tickled, was lying on his back as Silencer lipped at his chest. Where this particular trick had come from Kylo had no idea, but it spoke of the close communication which seemed to exist between his horse and hounds – a legacy perhaps of their previous, peripatetic lifestyle. 

He clucked his tongue at Bail as he gathered the reins and mounted. 

“Come on, you two, we’re going home.” 

Silencer’s shod feet rasped against the cobbles, the metallic sound loud in the silence. Then they were on the road and the four weary, wandering souls picked up the pace, each wanting to reclaim their own particular corner of Les Romarins. 

+++++ 

He reached home and found all locked up. Swearing a little, he headed for the stockyard and saw the ploughman’s wagon – the ploughman still in sleep. 

However, the yard had been left unlocked and he stabled Silencer, hanging a hay net and filling a bucket of water for him – he would turn him out to pasture later with the others. 

Walking back to the house, he saw his dogs had disappeared and noted the postern gate was now unbarred. Sure enough, he heard the unmistakable sounds of his hounds being petted and made much of. He entered the kitchen to find Tallie and Marie-Claude feeding titbits to them. What scoundrels his dogs were. 

“Where is Madame, Tallie?” he asked. 

Tallie curtsied, “Still abed, Monseigneur.” 

That was all the answer he needed. Putting his saddlebags on the kitchen table he strode upstairs to where his wife lay. 

She was at the washstand as he entered the room, naked and golden, as intoxicating as always. 

He groaned at the sight of her lithe body “Sweetheart”, crossing the floor in several long strides, gathering her to him. 

“Never again, he murmured into her neck, never again will I be parted from you willingly. Oh, wifey, my love, if you only knew what torture it was to be parted from you.” 

He kissed her then, passionately, deeply, at the back of his mind the thought of being mindful she was on her courses and therefore forbidden to him. 

Then he was turning her face up to his. He cupped her chin with one hand and discovered dark marks under her eyes, marring her beauty, and redness around them. Her features looked pinched and angular – had she not been eating? 

“Love, what’s this? I left you in good order and now... 

Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Kylo, I missed you so much there was no bearing it.” 

He pulled her to him. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.” 

He noticed the disorder of the bed. 

“What’s this, he joked, have you taken a lover in my absence?” 

“No, no, she shook her head, the maids slept with me two nights, I couldn’t sleep and they took pity on me.” 

There was a tale to be told in those words, he thought. Judging by her appearance, he could imagine it involved a storm of weeping as she lay alone. 

Damn, he thought, and he’d taken the dogs too. 

“I know we can’t do anything, he brought her face up to his again, but, lady, would you take your husband to bed and hold him?” 

He saw her look uncomfortable and his heart sank. Had he caused an estrangement because of his lack of empathy? 

“Kylo, she drew in a deep breath, I wanted to be mean to you for leaving me, and so I lied about that. I wanted to strike back at you for abandoning me for Finn, as I saw it, so I denied you my body with a lie.” 

Her eyes filled with tears and she couldn’t look at him. 

His mind took in the import of her words. He’d gone along with Finn’s request not taking into account her needs, or consulting her even, putting her second and causing a barrier to be put up between them. 

When did she ever refuse him? Never! She put up token resistance, but it was all part of her prudery and coquettishness, a game between them. His heart clenched within him. In future, where he went, she went. No more partings. She came first now. 

He responded by bending and catching her up in his arms, noticing at last the absence of a clout between her legs to catch her menstrual blood. 

“Well, then, he said as casually as he could, fighting the strong emotion currently flooding through him threatening tears, what are we waiting for?” 

+++++ 

She was deeply asleep, cradled in his arms. Their lovemaking had been intense and he’d remained in her body until his penis slipped out of its own volition, too soft to keep him connected to her. 

He was thinking about their conversation, and finally comprehended the blow her parents leaving her in death had struck. 

The lie, too, disturbed him, for it hinted at a capability to cut him out of her life if she believed only she loved, and he didn’t want that. 

He, who cut love affairs short if the woman was too clingy or needy, suddenly wanted her to be needy over him. No, he needed her to be clingy and needy so he could show her the depth of his devotion and gratitude for loving him. 

She had pulled a pillow towards them as he’d been readying to enter her. Catching his confused look she’d told him ‘I need you to go deeper.’ 

At that, he’d positioned the cushion himself and took her hard and deep. For the first time not sparing her, and she had loved it. That was his blood under her blunt nails and it bothered him not a whit. 

He thought about the presence of the ploughmen, and it now bothered him that he hadn’t been there to witness with her the first bite of the plough into the earth, sharing with her a visible sign of their joint dreams concerning the restoration of Les Romarins fortunes become reality. 

No wonder she had withheld herself. It was no more than he deserved. All in all, he wouldn’t blame her if she cast him off and took another. 

Of course, he would kill any man who tried to take his place - that went without saying, but, in theory, if she cast him off he wouldn’t reproach her. 

At times, the Skywalker blood pulsed strongly in him.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a character death occurs at the end of this chapter. stop reading after 'sense of self' if this is likely to upset you.

At Les Romarins the daily routine was back to normal, although Finn rode to the palace almost every day to see Kaydel. 

Rey had been quite self conscious when she finally awoke from her sleep, not quite liking that she had proved so clingy and needy over Kylo. As he helped her dress, she shyly confided as much to him by way of apology. He turned those pretty eyes of his on her, full of tenderness and laugher. 

“No, wife, he rebutted her apology, I was in error for leaving you and not giving thought to your needs and comfort. Be sure, you’ll never have to share your bed with your maids again – although (with a wicked grin) I’m not entirely convinced you did share with your maids. Perhaps I ought to have looked under the bed before ravishing you and pulled out your lover!” 

She had pummelled him with a pillow at that, he laughing and tickling her, the dogs baying and jumping up. The thudding and shrieking brought Tallie and Marie-Claude at the run to see what was to do. 

“Oh, Monseigneur, she had groaned when they had gone, sniggering behind their hands, we will never keep order in this house, not now when they see us like this.” 

“Who wants order?” he had breathed into her hair, his hands at her stays going for her breasts. She’d groaned again, not putting up even token resistance. 

+++++ 

Meanwhile, Raymond de la Mare stayed three days with the bishop and made good use of his time. First, there was the standing of Finn Neville to be ascertained. The de la Mare’s were not interested so much in money per se; however, Kaydel and her future children had to be secure. It was the duty, therefore, of the de la Mare’s and La Hire’s to make themselves busy in her behalf. 

He had spoken with Finn tete-a-tete. His father’s (fraudulent) Will had made provision for him – a fixed allowance made every quarter, deposited with the Guild of Goldsmiths in London. Of course, in reality it was a bribe from Lady Neville, a stay away and be content payment. It was also substantial and untouched – almost ten years untouched. 

How was the estate able to bear such a cost indefinitely? Finn elaborated on the size and wealth of the earldom. De la Mare kept his countenance, just as though such wealth were nothing to him – no less than expected. Finn’s holdings, should he be able to regain his patrimony, was more than Connix, de la Mare and La Hire possessed together. 

As soon as he could, he met with the bishop’s Clerk of the Archive. He had memorised the details of the emblems embroidered on the knights’ surcoats. Ah, yes, there was Neville in the record of arms compiled by the heralds. Mitaka’s badge proclaimed him to be Welsh in his ancestry, of the princely line of Llewelyn. 

The third knight was harder to find, the archivist had had to pull out one of the older books to find him; Amidala, an ancient line, a royal one, a cadet line of the Capets – until the Valois – kings of France. By what right did he bear these arms? He was grandson to them through the maternal line, therefore ineligible to be considered for the throne of France. 

Well, well, well, it was as Papa had thought, the bishop sought to restore his niece’s husband to power and position through his friendship with Neville and thereby exalt his niece. 

Raymond reflected on this. Both families seemed united in common cause. The bishop, therefore, could be wholly trusted in de la Mare affairs. He must ride home to Papa and seek his advice. There must be confidential talk between them. The things he wished to say ought not to be written down. 

+++++ 

The Feast of St Michael’s Mass was almost upon them, which they would celebrate with the bishop. It was an important feast in the Christian calendar, the next would be Christmas. 

The ploughing and sowing of seed had been completed at Les Romarins and foodstuffs bought in for the horses. Really, it was just a question of making the most of each day in anticipation of the winter cold – the common saying being that after Michaelmas the heat returned to heaven. 

Before the feast day, Rey’s expectations of motherly love was further challenged, and she acknowledged the reality that maternal love could be subverted and possessed of a sting sharper than that of the serpents tooth. 

Michaelmas was also one of the four quarter days, when servants could change or seek employment and when wages due were payable. On the day before the feast, Rey, accompanied by Kylo and Dopheld, dropped Marie-Claude at her family’s dwelling before turning and heading for Theed to reunite Tallie with her family for the holiday and pay her wages to them. 

Rey had consulted with Amilyn before employing Marie-Claude concerning the amount she ought to pay for her service. She had added a small increment to it as it was known that the bishop slightly underpaid because of employing such a large household. She was therefore satisfied that what she was paying Marie-Claude’s mother was a fair amount for the girl’s service. 

Returning to fetch Marie-Claude later in the day, she was aware of the little maid’s dishevelled appearance as Dopheld lifted her into the cart. Puzzling over this as they headed for home, she finally realised that the patterned silk headscarf she had gifted her was missing and the girl’s braids had lost their smoothness. She then realised her demeanour was quiet and hinted at suppressed tears. 

Dopheld, lifting Marie-Claude down from the cart, looked into her face and shot Rey an inquiring look. Rey shook her head, but determined to speak to her as soon as they could be private. To this end, she took her hand and led her into the Great Hall and the cushioned nook. 

“Marie-Claude, she began gently, is something not well with you?” 

The little girl burst into tears. Rey immediately gathered her into her arms and soothed her, rocking her gently against her breast. Gradually, the whole sorry tale was sobbed out. 

Maman was not pleased at the amount of money she had received as wages for her and Maman had said unkind things about Madame Rey. 

Maman had taken all the little girl’s possessions gifted to her by the family at Les Romarins. She had wanted to take the russet coloured wool surcoat trimmed with fur (a gift from Dopheld) from off of her back too, and the leather belt with its silver clasp cast with a hart leaping a brook (a gift from Kylo) which secured it. In desperation she had told her mother they both were gifts from Monseigneur who would most certainly come with his hounds to reclaim them. Maman was afraid of Monseigneur and his hounds. 

Rey patted her back soothingly, pulling her handkerchief from her sleeve and pressing it into the little maid’s hands so she could dab at her tears and blow her nose. The narrative began again. 

Maman had seen the small leather purse attached to her belt and gone through it. Nothing remained in it now. The remainder of pin money gifted from Rey, an ivory comb which was a gift from Tallie, the tiny mirror set in tortoiseshell M’sieur Finn had given her, the rosary with silver crucifix and amber beads hanging from her belt (another gift from Dopheld), all taken by Maman to sell as Madame Rey did not pay enough for her. 

What about the valuable gift of a live Michaelmas goose she had given her Mama from her mistress? 

Maman was not grateful. Maman said it was no more than she should expect. Marie-Claude had spoken to defend Madame Rey but Maman had become so enraged she had not dared to say more. Oh, Madame, it was all so very dreadful and she was so unhappy. 

Rey soothed her with caresses and comforting words. She led the little maid to the room she shared with Tallie and washed away her tears, settling her down to nap until suppertime, a few drops of lavender oil sprinkled on her pillow to soothe the agitation of her heart and mind. 

Confiding in the two knights, their faces grave and concerned, Rey could not help reflect the similarities between Kylo’s experience of maternal love and Marie-Claude’s. Both had suffered heartache at the hands of mothers dissatisfied with their lot and embittered by unrealised expectations. 

Of course, Kylo’s experience was the most cataclysmic as it had resulted in him being as good as orphaned and left homeless – and, of course, Finn being disinherited. In her heart, she renewed her vow to always give thanks for what she had and the love she had been shown, and to cultivate appreciation for the love and protection of her husband and uncle. 

+++++ 

As they entered the church for Mass there was a palpable air of expectation and excitement among the congregants. 

Finn approached to greet them, seeming younger somehow and beaming with happiness. Quickly he confided in them – permission and a blessing had been given and he and Kaydel were to be betrothed that day. 

Rey gasped and Kylo and Dopheld reached out to grasp his forearm in greeting and congratulation, each exchanging a kiss with him. Rey, in imitation, reached up to embrace him also, but Finn put out his hands to hold her off, laughingly looking at his childhood friend for his permission. 

Kylo nodded but moved to stand possessively by his wife, drawing her to his side after she placed a chaste kiss on Finn’s cheek, uttering sweet words of felicity as she did so. Finn kept his hands clasped behind his back as she lightly held onto his shoulders, aware of his lifelong friend’s minute observation of the interaction. 

Kylo would never try to excuse what his grandfather had done, but sometimes there were feelings in him toward his wife that gave understanding of how his grandfather, obsessed as he was with Padme, could have misunderstood common courtesies freely given for something else. 

Finn took no offence, knowing Kylo was deeply in love with his wife and was made vulnerable because of it. 

With his wife safely held within the protection of his arm, Kylo and Dopheld asked for clarification. Finn was happy to oblige. 

Raymond de la Mare had returned yesterday carrying the blessing of Kaydel’s de la Mare and La Hire grandfathers. There being no further impediment, the marriage contract to be drawn up later confirming terms already agreed, Raymond had urged the young couple to take advantage of the sacred feast day and take the irrevocable step of betrothal. 

Judging by his demeanour, Finn was more than happy to do so. 

Mass was heard, Pere Antoine officiating, and then the invited company moved to the Great Hall of the palace where places were set and the household ready to serve the traditional dish of Michaelmas goose. 

Rey ate sparingly of the rich meat. These last couple of days had found her nauseous after meals and at home she had been making a tisane of fennel to drink after eating to soothe her upset stomach. 

After eating, the lower status persons departed to the Theed Michaelmas fair, the bishop having graciously authorised it. Marie-Claude was going with Rose and Paige and staying over, Rey collecting her on the morrow when she came to Theed to collect Tallie. 

The bishop led his invited guests to his library. When all were assembled he invited them to his private chapel to witness the betrothal of Kaydel and Finn. Excited chatter broke out. Some rumour of such an event had been passing from mouth to mouth before Mass, and Raymond de la Mare was besieged by well wishers gripping his forearm and expressing their delight. 

Raymond was practically purring with satisfaction. Certain persons were singled out by him for special appreciation – those politically savvy souls who had written to alert the de la Mare’s of such a desirable partie as an english earl in their midst, and to praise Kaydel’s acuity in fixing her interest with him – in a manner befitting a de la Mare, of course. 

To these fortunate persons, Raymond gave them to understand his gratitude in having his family’s interests close to their hearts and indicating his willingness to help pursue their own interests wherever he was able. 

With these souls, he also gripped their shoulder in a manly display of friendship and kissed the hands of their ladies with true chivalric grace. 

The doors connecting the private chapel with the library were thrown open, and Lor San Tekka dressed in full regalia and flanked by two priests holding symbols of his authority were revealed. 

Raymond gave his arm to Kaydel and led her forward followed by Finn supported by Kylo and Dopheld. Rey blended in with the other guests. 

Before the altar, Finn Neville, Earl of Warwick, was betrothed to Kaydel Connix, by Lor San Tekka, Bishop of Theed, in the presence of Raymond de la Mare, Lord Ren of the royal house Capet-Amidala and Lord Mitaka of the royal house Llewelyn. 

A gasp went up at the proclaimed status of the high nobility stood before the altar, and Raymond de la Mare looked fondly at his niece and with benevolence at the assembled guests. 

Rings were exchanged and a kiss, then Lor San Tekka presented the couple, their hands clasped together, to the many witnesses and a prolonged burst of clapping broke out. 

The rituals complete, the assembled guests surged forward to offer their congratulations. Then the bishop’s servants were among the guests pressing glasses of clairet into their hands and a toast was called. 

As soon as he could, Kylo left his friend’s side and sought out his wife. He found her being congratulated with renewed respect by several of the guests. As he approached, a flattering amount of attention was diverted toward him. He was impervious to this, having spent years in service at royal courts - he knew how empty such attentions could be. He was content to be reunited with his wife, her hand tucked in his arm, dealing with the flattery with deceptive urbanity. 

At last he could carry her home seated on his saddle bow, her arms around his waist, head tucked under his chin, his military cloak enveloping them both. They entertained Dopheld to supper, Kylo checked the stockyard and exercised his dogs, and at last he was alone with her. They then could be as loud and uninhibited in their lovemaking as they wished. 

+++++ 

The morning brought M’sieur Jacques to their door with Marie-Claude’s possessions, minus her pin money. There had been a terrible misunderstanding, M’sieur Jacques explained, Madame Jacques had been afflicted by one of the malaise’s women sometimes suffered. Words had been spoken, actions taken, which Madame Jacques now bitterly regretted. 

Madame Ren was all graciousness and understanding as, of course, was Monseigneur, he was sure she would forgive any slights she had received from his wife, any wrong words which had been repeated to her. 

Kylo, standing massive and impassive before the nervously sweating man, only inclined his head in acknowledgement. The possessions were handed over and M’sieur Jacques bowed himself out of the kitchen unnerved by the silent man and the staring hounds who stood pressed against their master’s legs, a faint rumbling threat coming from their throats. 

He had tried a little flattery on the knight, commenting on the hounds’ fine condition and wondering what game they were used to hunt. Man or beast, had come the laconic reply, it’s all one to them. M’sieur Jacques brought the conversation to a swift end. 

Later, turning out the horses with Dopheld, Kylo repeated the gist of the conversation to him. Silencer, patiently waiting for the order to move off was lipping at Bail’s belly by way of passing the time, the hound lying supine on the cobbles of the yard ecstatic. 

Both knights laughed so hard at the sight of the ferocious man hunter so entertained, Bail scrambled to his feet affronted at being the butt of their joke and stalked off. Animals too have feelings and often demonstrate a sense of self. 

Later, driving to Theed to collect Tallie and Marie-Claude, they found the bishop’s household big with news. Bigger even than the betrothal. 

Plutt, celebrating the feast with his household had ordered and eaten a dish of fresh oysters as an entree. They had been put before him prepared in their own liquor with a little salt and he had swallowed them whole with clear enjoyment and no ill effects, making a joke of their aphrodisiac effect and bussing a young maid to much laughter and ribaldry among his cronies. 

Sadly for him, he never got to test their potency because as he tucked into his portion of goose those closest to him noticed him quietening, then a significant change in his complexion. They then witnessed the seizure which took him, lasting a full five minutes, the man thrashing and gasping for air – passing in the uttermost of agony. 

Armand Hux, Comte de Theed, had taken his revenge.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next three chapters, including this one, bring an end to this story. There will then be two epilogues.
> 
> Will Kylo return to Les Romarins or revert and once more enter the service of the prince?
> 
> Lots of angst and drama coming up. Enjoy!
> 
> amour propre = self esteem

The first week after Michaelmas was lovely weather wise, but it was noticeable how the days were shortening and the early morning chill bespoke of the winter to come. 

By the second week of October, Rey determined it was time to journey to Paris and sell the last of her oils, cosmetics and perfumes. Paris was preferable to buy her uncle’s gift too, she always made him the gift of gloves and the Glovers of Paris made the best. Although there was genuine affection between them, she was always conscious of his place in the world. A handmade gift from her was not one which dignified his status, fine (expensive) leather gloves with heavily embroidered cuffs would. 

The journey to Paris was uneventful, Kylo and Dopheld trotting or cantering ahead to exercise their horses before wheeling around and forming a close escort once more. The traffic increased as they approached Paris, traders and suppliers flooding in to supply the insatiable appetite of the great city and the knights stayed close, falling in behind the cart. 

The horses were stabled at her usual hostelry and her business soon transacted, then came the pleasurable business of buying Christmas and New Year gifts. 

They broke their fast with food from a street vendor Rey knew – who washed his hands before he put them in the pot. They sat on a simple hewn bench eating their hot food and discussing their plan of action, absorbing the energy of the great city, so different from the peace of Les Romarins or the quieter pace of Theed. 

So intent were the three on their business, they didn’t notice that they were under observation. One of three figures watching them broke off after a whispered conference with his fellows to disappear down a certain narrow lane, his companions trailing them as they moved through the city. 

They ate again before leaving Paris – Rey sparingly. They had made good time and were confident of reaching home before twilight. Bowling out onto the road which would lead them to Les Romarins, they found themselves unimpeded as the morning rush of traffic had dwindled to next to nothing. 

About five miles out they noticed a group of five horsemen ahead. Gaining on them rapidly, they realised that they were in fact dawdling, turning and spreading out to block the old roman road at the sound of the cart’s wheels bumping and rattling over the well worn surface. Kylo and Dopheld loosened their swords in their sheaths. 

Rey stopped the cart short of the five, within crossbow range. Kylo and Dopheld pulled up either side of the gelding. 

“Good sirs, called Kylo, will you give us the road?” 

Four of the men were dressed in padded jackets, the fifth in a dark blue surcoat. This man moved his horse forward and Rey noted he was wearing golden spurs, the sign of a knight. 

Rey saw both Kylo and Dopheld stiffen in their saddles, a look passing between them. 

The knight advanced only a few paces before pulling up and flashing very white teeth in a broad smile. Rey noted his skin was swarthy and his eyes dark. 

“Good morrow, Ren. Good morrow Mitaka.” 

Looking at Rey, he doffed his hat and bowed over his horse’s withers. 

“And this must be the french beauty who has reportedly stole my friend’s heart away. Good morrow, Lady Ren.” 

“Hardly that, Dameron”, Kylo gritted out. 

“What, do you not consider your wife to be a beauty? How ungallant of you. My lady, leave this peasant and run away with me. Your beauty, I promise you, is wasted on this oaf, whereas I ... “he flashed a winsome smile at her. 

Kylo’s face now wore the blackest of scowls. 

“That’s not what I meant, Dameron, and you know it. We were never friends and don’t make eyes at my wife!” 

The latter part was said with a distinct snarl, followed up by a terse “What do you want?” 

“Ah, Ren, your lack of finesse ... how does Lady Ren bear it, I wonder?” rolling his eyes at Rey. 

“She bears it very well. Again, what do you want?” 

Dameron looked as though he would make a trite something of the tall knight’s last remark, but Ren caught his eye and he subsided, switching to serious. 

“You’re wanted.” 

Kylo looked at him speculatively, “By the Prince?” 

Dameron nodded, “By the Prince. Neville is wanted too. Do you know where he is?” 

Kylo shrugged “Perhaps.” 

Dameron looked pensive at this curt reply. 

“No matter, if you won’t tell me, I’m sure you’ll tell the Prince.” 

“Dameron, I don’t know how informed you are about my situation, but the short version is that my wife redeemed me from the scaffold, from certain death. In return I promised myself to her with an unbreakable oath.” 

“Go back to Aquitaine, present my apologies to the Prince, but I am under another’s rule now and I will not take up arms against my wife.” 

“He’s not in Aquitaine.” 

“What?” 

“He’s not in Aquitaine. He’s at Chateau Varykino making his way in easy stages to Paris for the November parlement.” 

“What? What madness is this?” 

Dameron shrugged. “Things have changed Ren, too much to tell you standing in the road. Come with me and talk to him yourself.” 

“Dameron, did you not listen?” 

Dameron looked at a point between his horse’s ears. 

“Your wife is very young, Ren - very young and very pretty.” 

Kylo’s eyes narrowed. 

“If you intend taking my wife from me, Dameron, if that’s your meaning, you overrate yourself. No man attempts to take my wife from me and lives.” 

“Nothing so crude, Ren, however, say we start something here, it would be a pity for that youth and prettiness to come to harm. You know as well as I how unpredictable a melee can be.” 

Kylo stiffened in the saddle. 

“There are two knights here, Dameron, with battle experience. Taking down five men is not a problem.” 

“And me, piped up Rey, forgotten but listening intently to the exchange, you have me too, and you, m’sieur, you will feel my sting first.” 

As she spoke, she brought up her crossbow, inserting the quarrel she had surreptitiously palmed. 

Kylo groaned inwardly, of course his wife would not stay out of it. 

Dameron, who had been in enough fights to read deadly intent in Rey’s eyes, saw the flicker of fear cross Kylo’s face knew it to be for this tiny woman and gave a way out. 

“Actually, Ren, there’s more than five.” He nodded to a point behind them. 

Both Kylo and Dopheld turned in their saddles and took note of the four horsemen who had come upon them quietly and stood off from them about a quarter of a mile. They wore the same padded jackets as those with Dameron and were clearly men at arms. Rey never took her eyes off Dameron, the bow remaining steady, aimed at his heart. 

Kylo exchanged glances with Dopheld, who shrugged, happy with whichever way Ren called it. He dismounted from Silencer and stepped beside the cart holding up his arms. 

“Sweetheart, come down.” 

Her eyes never wavered from Dameron. 

“Come down, Monseigneur?” 

“Sweetheart, we need to talk.” 

She stole a glance at him, before her eyes fastened themselves back on Dameron, the bow held steady. She couldn’t miss the worry in her husband’s face. 

“No, Monseigneur, you said you were mine to rule. I say we fight. I will not let you go with these men and never see you again.” 

“Sweetheart, come down I say.” The tension was palpable in his voice. 

He knew his wife. The bow never faltered in its steady aim at Dameron’s heart. At this range she would kill him outright and the Lord knew what would be the end of it. He would take whatever punishment meted out to him, but she must live. She may grieve for a little while, but Armand, he knew, would be foremost to seek her out and take her to wife. 

“Kylo I can’t lose you, her gaze not wavering from Dameron’s heart. I was going to wait a little longer to be absolutely sure, but now I’ll say it, Kylo I’m pregnant with your child.” 

She thought it would strengthen him to fight and stay with her. She badly miscalculated. 

“Rey, the note in his voice was unmistakable, put up and come down.” 

Dopheld kicked his horse into motion and moved forward in front of Dameron, blocking Rey’s clear shot. 

Kylo watched his wife change from determined belligerence to tearful compliance. She took the bolt from the crossbow held it in her hand and turned to look at her husband, lips trembling. 

He held his hands up once more and she put bolt and bow down and stood, leaning forward so his hands could grip her waist and lift her onto the ground. 

His arms encompassed her and she laid her head against his chest, grasping his surcoat with both hands. 

“Listen, he besought her, I would fight, but I won’t risk you and I won’t risk our child.” 

She was sobbing softly now, holding onto him tightly. 

“It will be alright, I promise.” 

Now she started to argue. 

“No, no it won’t. And they want Finn too. Oh, Monseigneur, you have killed me.” 

He found her lips and kissed her deeply, passionately. There was so much he wanted to say to her, to urge her not to worry, but at the same time to remarry if he didn’t come back. That would tip her over the edge, he knew, and she would never let him go. 

“Love, think of our child, have faith in me and be calm.” 

“You ask me that when I will never see you again? You ask me to be calm when you’re killing me? Oh, Monseigneur you ought to have let me kill that man - coward, coward!” 

He rocked her gently to and fro as she wept and berated him. Her words held no sting for him; she was nineteen and knew nothing of the melee. At last she was silent before him. 

“Sweetheart, listen. Return to Les Romarins, alert your uncle. Tell Finn what has happened here, he will ride to your uncle. San Tekka will know what to do.” 

She raised her head, eyes searching his face. 

“You make fun of me. Give the little woman something to do while you go to your death.” 

“Hush, do you think so little of me you would accuse me of that, I who have loved only you?” 

She looked a little ashamed and sniffed hard. He pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped her eyes, got her to blow her nose. 

He continued his assault on her heart. 

“Rey, I have done many things of which I am ashamed. I have been many things that I now bitterly regret, but Rey, I have loved no other woman but you. As Kylo Ren and as Ben Solo, I have worshipped no other woman but you. Rey, I love you in idolatry. Do you understand?” 

She looked in his eyes, so dark, so passionate, and so sincere in their expression. Her mouth formed an ‘oh’ of shock and understanding. 

“Monseigneur, such love is dangerous.” 

“I know it, love, but I cannot give it up.” 

She stared at him a full minute, then gathered herself together. She pressed against him, inviting his lips on hers. Then she was all business, though still obviously upset. 

“Come, then, lift me up.” 

He bent and lifted her into the cart. She gathered her reins and spoke to Dopheld. 

“Expose that coward to me, Dopheld.” 

Dopheld grinned and backed Tie away. 

She had an expression of severity on her face. 

“So, M’sieur, what do you say for yourself? Do you intend to murder my husband?” 

“No, Madame, he replied seriously, believe me, I would not have come were that the task.” 

She huffed at these words and had the pleasure of seeing a look of dissatisfaction pass over his face at her all too obvious disbelief. 

“Madame, I swear on my sacred oath as a knight, no harm will come to your husband by my hand, and I will preserve him from harm to the sacrifice of my life.” 

She huffed again and watched his displeasure grow. 

He was pulling his sword from its sheath, holding it up to make the sign of the cross. 

“Madame, I do not lie. I swear now by the cross, by this sword that is sacred to me, that your husband will suffer no injury or harm by my hand. I swear too I will preserve his life to the detriment of my own. I swear to keep this oath at the peril of my immortal soul and my place in paradise.” 

At last she was satisfied and made to move off. 

Now it was Kylo whose heart suddenly couldn’t part with her. He put his foot in the metal stirrup attached to the cart and boosted himself to take her face in his hands, kissing her tenderly again and again. 

“Have no fear, love, she whispered, her hands over his, I will redeem you once more. You are right - my uncle will know what to do.” 

He stepped down at last. 

“Take care of her, Dopheld.” 

“No! She rapped out, Dopheld goes with you.” 

“Love, he began tiredly, do not argue with me.” 

“I’m not, she replied, Dopheld goes with you. Adieu.” 

Her whip cracked, deliberately catching Dameron's horse, which moved rapidly crabwise slipping onto its haunches into the ditch which ran parallel to the road, the knight swearing and urging him forward. She set the gelding at a smart trot straight at the four men at arms, cracking her whip repeatedly and causing their horses to jostle into one another as she drove a path through them. 

Dameron, cursing and fighting to get his horse under control then fell afoul of Silencer, who, without Ren’s restraining hand, nipped the shoulder of his horse when it jostled him, drawing blood, which set it fighting for the bit as it tried to bolt from the snapping jaws of the massive stallion. 

When he finally got the mastery of the badly spooked animal he found Dopheld and Kylo mounted and waiting serenely for him. He had lost his usual smoothness of manner and the detached sarcasm which ensured he had the upper hand in most situations. His hat, too, was not set at its usual rakish angle and was in danger of falling off. Kylo couldn’t resist. 

“So now you’ve met the french beauty who has stolen my heart away, Dameron.” 

Dameron swore again, longer and more fluently this time, then wheeled his mount and bade the two knights fall in. They flanked him either side, the head of Dameron's horse going up hooves skittering at Silencer’s proximity. Ren had iron control over his horse and didn’t move position. If there was treachery, Dameron would die first. 

+++++ 

Rey’s thoughts as she headed home were a maelstrom. Her heart ached with worry for her husband, she fought to stay calm for the sake of their child, and she projected forward to what action her uncle would take to ensure the safe return of Kylo. 

As soon as she was out of sight of the ambush, she managed the pace of the gelding. She had been fortunate the animal had had its freshness depleted by the journey to Paris, given the way he had been driven through the English soldiers, and she had quickly brought him back under control. She hoped Dameron’s horse bolted with him clear to St. Malo and with this pious hope turned her thoughts back to Kylo. 

His confession that he loved her more than god had initially taken her aback. Such blasphemy worried her and she’d urged caution on him. His further confession that he couldn’t give up such a way of loving gave her pause for thought, for his words betokened extreme devotion on his part. She had capitulated then to his wishes, at last understanding the agonies he would suffer if she did indeed come to harm at the hands of the English. 

She must get him back. She would get him back. She tried to calculate how much gold it would take to ransom him and Dopheld, for Dopheld had proven his self true in the confrontation and she would not abandon him over mere money. 

The chaos of her thoughts meant that the journey seemed to pass relatively quickly in spite of its length, and she caught sight of the gatehouse of Les Romarins just as the light was beginning to fade. 

As she pulled up before the bridge, she saw the main gate was closed, presumably locked, as was the postern gate. No matter, she knew how to rouse the household. She put her thumb and second finger in her mouth and gave a shrill, carrying whistle - silence. She pictured the hounds raising their heads listening intently and whistled again. Almost instantly she heard their baying. 

She got down from the cart and went to the gelding’s head. The hounds were not favourites of his. Unlike Silencer, their boisterousness made him skittish and wary, inclined him to bolt. 

The postern gate opened and out stepped Finn, the two hounds pushing past him racing across the bridge whimpering, claws scrabbling for purchase against the stonework in their haste. As they reached her the gelding threw up his head and she hung onto the bridle for dear life, urging ‘down, down’ at the ecstatic hounds. They didn’t jump up, but their bodies were constantly moving, squirming with the delight of seeing her - whimpering low in their throats, begging for her hands upon them in caress. 

Finn reached her, laughingly taking charge of the rattled horse. Then he saw her ravaged face. 

“Rey, what has happened” What’s to do? And then: Where are Kylo and Dopheld?” 

“Finn, we were ambushed on the road. The English have taken him. A knight called Dameron threatened me, and Monseigneur capitulated to save me from harm.” 

Finn swore, “Dameron, that cocky sod, always taking things too far. Do you know where they’ve taken them?” 

“Yes, to Chateau Varykino. Finn, your prince is there. Dameron was looking for you too, but Monseigneur wouldn’t tell it to him.” 

Finn stared at her blankly. 

“The prince is there? Rey are you sure?” 

“Yes, I’m sure. Dameron said he journeys to Paris for the November parlement.” 

Finn looked at her, brow creased in worry and thought. 

“Why set off so early? Why come at all? He’s putting himself in the hands of the french king – madness!” 

Rey ignored this speculation and repeated Dameron’s assertion that much had changed with the prince. 

Finn frowned down at her then pulled himself together. 

“Rey, go into the house. I’ll stable the horse, and then we can talk.” 

“Let me get some of the packages first Finn, then I’ll go in.” 

She moved to the back of the cart and lowered the tailgate. The hounds were pressed against her legs wanting attention. She stepped carefully as she turned, her arms full of packages, not wanting to tread on them so close were they pressed. 

“Finn, there are just a few left. 

“Don’t worry, he replied, I’ll bring in the rest. Go in.” 

As she walked over the bridge, Tallie stepped through the postern door, wondering at the delay of her mistress entering the house. She took some of the packages chattering happily - unaware of the calamity which had befallen the house until they reached the lighted kitchen and her ravaged face was exposed for all to see. 

She heard the gasp of Tallie and the frightened ‘Madame’ of Marie-Claude and fought to hold back her tears. 

She sat her maids down at the table and explained to them the events on the road, the dogs pressed into her, their heads on her knees as she caressed them. 

“Those devils, exclaimed Tallie. Madame, what will we do?” 

“Milord Finn will ride to my uncle and he will tell us how to get Monseigneur and Dopheld back.” 

She looked at Marie-Claude's pinched, white face. Dopheld was a favourite with her, he teaching her the harp and the songs of the troubadours and his homeland. Of the three knights his gifts to her were the most numerous. 

She reached out her hand to the girl. “Don’t worry Marie-Claude; we will get them back - both of them.” 

The little maid gave a wan smile “Assuredly, Madame.” 

Finn came in then, carrying the rest of the packages and setting them down on the kitchen table. 

Sitting down, he asked her to tell him the whole story, which she did. 

In spite of the gravity of the situation, he fought to keep his face straight as she told how she had the drop on Dameron, but Kylo had not let her shoot. 

He knew of Dameron’s reputation as a ladies’ man and something of a charmer. He could only imagine the wound to the fellow’s _amour propre_ facing the business end of a crossbow, wielded by a woman impervious to his charm. 

She missed out the reason why her husband had capitulated. For what she had planned, no-one need know yet. She was sure her uncle would not let her ride with him if he even suspected she may be pregnant. 

At last she came to the point where she urged Finn to ride to her uncle and beg his assistance. 

He looked grave “About that. I visited Kaydel this morning and the bishop is away in Paris.” 

For a moment she looked anguished, and then the resolve which defined her kicked in. 

“Very well, I will go myself.” 

Finn gazed at her slack jawed. “No, Rey, that is not permissible.” 

He saw her jaw tighten and a certain look in her eyes. He recalled Kylo once remarking that his (completely perfect) wife had a tendency toward stubbornness. He believed, looking at the beautiful but determined face before him, that he was seeing a manifestation of that fault. 

He then recalled that his strong-minded friend never demurred to his wife’s plans but obediently followed wherever she trod. He caved in. 

“Very well, Rey, it’s not what I like, but I’ll take you with me.” 

He hoped that came over as authoritative. 

The smile she usually reserved for his friend lit up her face and she began to plan. 

“You must write my uncle where we go and you must bring back one of my uncle’s coursers with you, saddled and bridled. We will leave the hounds here, I think, with Tallie and Marie-Claude.” 

Busy with plans, she urged him to saddle up once the letter to her uncle was writ. He found himself giving in to her on every point, concluding that, although she was the more beautiful to look at, he preferred the submissiveness of Kaydel. 

He wondered again at his friend’s uxoriousness. It seemed the only thing he’d ever insisted on was that she did not shoot Dameron and that she would go home and leave him to his fate. How he got her to obey was a mystery, but here she was planning to face the son of the King of England, the heir apparent to the throne, and demand he give her back her husband. 

He obediently left the house and saddled up, setting off for Theed, as instructed.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in medieval times, a queen heading her army in a time of war was said to be a 'queen militant'. i could have named this chapter Queen Militant. equally, i could have named it Fists of Fury - either title would have been appropriate. Enjoy!

She’d gone to bed after Finn left for the palace, exhausted physically and emotionally. 

Now that her course of action was fixed, she found it easy to go to sleep, her arms around Beru, Bail pressed into her back, she in the middle of the bed. 

She awoke before dawn and managed to exit the bed without disturbing the dogs too much. She washed yesterday’s travel stains from her body, examining her stomach for any visible indication of the life she believed to be growing within her. 

“Do not worry, Bebe, she murmured, stroking her flat stomach, Papa will return, you will know him.” 

She dressed as she had for the harvest in trousers and half boots. Wearing her new fur lined surcoat and carrying her hat and gloves, she clucked her tongue for the dogs to follow and made her way downstairs. 

She had expected to find the kitchen empty, but there was Papa Pierre-Marie. 

“Papa, she cried out joyfully, rushing toward him, casting her hat and gloves down, what are you doing here?” 

He wrapped his arms around her and held her in one of his bone crushing hugs. 

“Petite, how could I not be here in your time of trouble?” 

The dogs were standing off, growling at him and beginning to bark. 

“Ho, he spoke to them; you think I’m not allowed to hug your mistress, eh? Come here.” 

To her very great surprise, they came to him with these words and a snap of his fingers, fawning and wagging their tails sheepishly. She felt vaguely annoyed. It seemed only to Kylo – and now Papa Pierre-Marie – they rendered perfect obedience. 

He had heard of her troubles. He had found Finn and got the unembellished story from him. He had selected the best hunter in the bishop’s stable to be saddled for her and had ridden it himself to Les Romarins. He had not had her woken up, believing she needed her sleep and strength for the journey on the morrow. 

He set small beer before her, and ham and bread. She must eat every bite. She must not argue with him, she must be strong in body and mind. 

Now listen, petite, there was more to this than meets the eye - something bigger than knights changing allegiances. 

The best strategy was this, when before the prince, she must not offer gold straight away for ransom. He knew the prince’s blood – his line was greedy and expensive. She must be meek and respectfully petition for her husband’s return. Be submissive before the prince. 

He eyed her meaningfully and she blushed and nodded assent. 

She must be as an innocent young woman before the prince. Which, heaven knew, she was, and cast down her eyes and have shyness before him. That stubborn look must not cross her face – she knew the one – tears were better than hot words. Did she understand? 

She cast down her eyes, her blush deepening, and nodded. 

(He forbore to laugh). 

Furthermore, she must show respect to the prince as if in the presence of her uncle. 

Now, she must give him her most sacred word that she would carry no weapon; threaten no Englishman with retribution - even if Monseigneur showed signs of injury. 

She gave it, her voice sounding childlike in its tone - such was his authority over her. 

He put out his hand and laid it on her head, giving her his blessing and invoking the names of saints and angels to her service. She kissed his hand and thanked him with tears. 

Hush now. He had packed a saddlebag for her. Tallie had come into her room while she slept and brought out her best dress and petticoats and things. She may be invited to dine with the prince, in fact he was sure of it, and her present attire would not do to sit at table in company. 

Also, he had put in a present for the prince, a book. 

No, she was not to argue, what had they just discussed? Anyways, he had taken it from an Englishman, it had always bothered him. Perhaps this was the Lord’s way of allowing him to ease his conscience? 

Tallie and Marie-Claude entered the kitchen, dressed and bleary eyed. They embraced her and wished her safe journey and success in her mission. 

She clung to them both and thanked them. 

Finn entered the kitchen, refreshed and ready for the journey. 

Papa Pierre-Marie bade Tallie wind up her mistress’s hair and help put on her hat. 

Should she not cover it in her usual scarf first? 

The priest pursed his lips and gave his opinion that, no, that wouldn’t be necessary. 

But what if she needed to remove her hat before the prince as a sign of respect? 

He shrugged offhandedly, oh, well, if that were necessary some kind lady, he was sure, would help her on with it. 

That’s not what she meant ... Papa Pierre-Marie became stern. 

Oh, would she not be guided by him? 

She subsided. 

The household walked to the stables the dogs left, protesting, in the manor. 

Finn and Papa Pierre-Marie saddled the horses and led them into the roadway. 

Finn was given the priest’s blessing and Rey kissed his hand before mounting. 

He cupped his hands together and she placed her foot in them and was boosted into the saddle. He adjusted the stirrups and helped her arrange her surcoat, then he handed up her whip to place under her thigh. 

He looked up at her, not hiding his affection for her. 

“Petite, remember all I have advised you. I have fought the English. I have fought this prince. I know the sentimentality of the English. Be as ‘ _une jeune fille_ ’ before the prince and he will grant you the wish of your heart at no cost.” 

Her voice suffused with emotion, she could manage only one word in assent: “Papa.” 

Then she shortened her reins, tapped her heels against the courser’s flanks and began her journey to Varykino, Finn following. 

He watched until they were out of sight and then turned to the maids. 

“I trust you know your catechism? I will hear you both before breakfast.” 

+++++ 

The journey to Varykino counted as one of the worse journey’s Poe Dameron had ever made. The two knights determinedly rode either side the whole way and his horse fought him every mile trying to get away from Ren’s stallion, only to receive angry nips from Dopheld’s if he bumped and barged into it. 

He could hear sniggering from the column of men at arms at his plight and pulled over bidding them ride ahead of him. He stole a glance at Kylo and Dopheld, but their faces remained impassive. 

Finally, thankfully, they reached the chateau, his arms aching and feeling pulled from their sockets, his legs sore from gripping and urging his mount in a forward motion, and not crabwise, the whole way. His horse was covered in sweat, lathered with it, and so was he by the time he dismounted and gave the exhausted animal into the hands of a groom. 

To his intense annoyance, both knights swung easily from the saddle and walked with a nonchalant gait into the chateau while he limped, saddle-sore, after them, cursing Ren all the way, and his benighted horse and his homicidal wife. 

He would never forget the sight of those hazel eyes with their death stare paralysing him, the crossbow never wavering from its target – his heart. It was ... unfeminine. Trust Ren to marry an unfeminine woman though, first impression, she looked a demure miss – as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. 

Young and fresh she’d looked to him, desirable - totally different from Ren’s usual fare. He should have known there’d be a sting in the tail with any woman of Ren’s choosing. Damn him. 

He reported to the prince’s aide-de-camp handing his charges over, glad to be shot of them and retiring to his quarters to wash, change, eat and brood. 

He was sent for the next morning. The prince was not pleased the aide-de-camp informed him. He had blundered. Best to have followed Lord Ren discreetly so a proper approach could be made without upset, or make enquiry at the shops Lord Ren had visited for his direction. 

Lady Ren had been in tears the prince had learned. Lady Ren was with child and separated by him from her husband, believing he went to his death. Badly done, the prince thought, the whole incident was badly handled start to finish. Did he know that Lord Ren was a kinsman of the prince? Did he know Lady Ren was niece to the Bishop of Theed – a Valois by birth? 

Poe burned with embarrassment and the unfairness of it all. Summarily dismissed, he made his way to the picket lines to check the condition of his horse and the welfare of the knights mounts, loitering there having nothing better to do. 

It was almost the dinner hour when a sentry approached him and said a knight and his companion had been stopped by the sentries at the camp perimeter. They were seeking an audience with the prince. 

The knight claimed to be the Earl of Warwick. The name of his companion was unknown – a young man, a squire? Would he come and authorise their admittance to the chateau? 

Poe’s spirits soared, a chance to redeem his reputation. Certainly he would come. Lead on! 

It was indeed Neville, Earl of Warwick, and his companion was Lady Ren. Poe’s heart leapt at the chance of redemption. He bowed before them and greeted them in his best manner. His reception was cool. Lord Neville glared at him; the lady was impassive but chilly in her greeting. 

He stood beside her, remarked on the quality of her horse. 

“It belongs to my uncle” was the terse reply. 

He cringed internally. That uncle! 

“Lady Ren, he began, I am most sincerely sorry for being the cause of your distress yesterday. I misinterpreted my orders and overstepped. I beg your forgiveness. I meant to cause no injury to yourself or your child.” 

Rey nodded but said nothing. 

He cast an eye over her attire, admiring how it showed off her figure. My goodness, that tiny waist of hers, Ren’s hands must span it easily. The panels of her surcoat mostly hid her legs, but the glimpses he got showed them to be long and shapely. He could do this. 

“Lady Ren, may I tell you how fortunate I believe Lord Ren to be in his choice of wife.” 

She side eyed him, looking down from the saddle. 

He put his hand out and grasped the leather of her stirrup. 

“Yes, indeed, he continued, the pity of it is that he stole you away from all of us. I myself would have been glad to compete in the lists for your heart and hand.” 

He heard Neville give a snort of derision. Rey merely inclined her head – Papa Pierre-Marie’s strictures sounding in her mind. 

Encouraged, he became bolder. 

“Lady Ren, if you find it in your heart to forgive me, may I be permitted to kiss your hand?” 

She looked down at him. For a moment he thought she would refuse, and then she gracefully extended her left hand to him. 

Joyfully, he took it and bestowed a lingering kiss against the leather of her glove, looking up into her eyes as he did so. 

He made a show of releasing her hand slowly, reluctantly. Some unreadable emotion passed over her features before it was stilled, and she gathered her reins once more with both hands. 

He turned to face forward and saw Neville had moved his horse to stand before them, with a distinct look of derision on his face. 

“Come, Finn, he heard her say above him, I am impatient to see Monseigneur.” 

They set off toward the chateau, he admiring her seat on the horse, the way her body swayed in the saddle. He indulged himself by imagining her in his bed. 

They reached the picket lines and he called over a couple of grooms and would have helped her dismount. She was on the ground, however, before he could reach up. He satisfied himself by putting his hands to her waist under the pretence of steadying her. Something like a snarl crossed her features and then there was Neville crowding him away from her. Her face had resumed its expression of passivity, her eyes lowered. 

He recovered and untied her saddle bags at her request, Neville already had his, and he led them over the long footbridge into the chateau, offering her the support of his arm. She hesitated then slipped her arm in his, Neville breathing down his neck the whole way. 

He took her to the office of the prince’s aide-de-camp, Lord North, who bowed low before her and again before Neville, addressing the latter with deep respect. Lord North shot him a hostile look and dismissed him before turning into the inner sanctum to advise the prince of his unexpected, but very welcome, visitors. 

Poe lingered, however, and once again begged for her hand to kiss in farewell. She looked at him speculatively, and then removed the glove from her right hand, adorned with Kylo’s wedding band and its loving sentiment. She held out her slim fingers to be kissed. 

He took the offered hand reverently with both hands, bestowing a lingering kiss looking deeply into those clear, hazel eyes. 

“Madame, he breathed, your servant and your slave.” 

Again, that tremor crossed her features and he could feel Neville’s glare upon him. Nevertheless, he stood firm. 

“Madame, permit me to be your beau-chevalier” he pleaded, all artifice and pastiche of courtly love. 

At last she spoke. 

“I am, of course, desolate to deny you sir, but that office is, and always will be, the privilege of my husband, Lord Ren.” 

There was something in her tone which suggested his very presence was odious to her, though the expression of her face was neutral. Too neutral, he mused, knowing himself unforgiven. 

He gave up the game, preserving as much of his dignity as he could. Still holding her hand, he placed one more kiss upon it and withdrew - Neville not bothering to hide his animosity toward him. 

He heard her laugh ring out as he walked away down the corridor. 

+++++ 

The prince was enchanted by her. Enchanted and envious of the prize his kinsman and friend had won. 

He watched her walk toward him, her unconventional attire catching his eye first, then the neat figure it covered. Good Lord, Ren’s hands must easily span that tiny waist. Her leather belt was cinched tight around it, drawing the eye inexorably to it – his hands itched to try spanning it himself. 

She was small breasted, unlike Ren’s usual fare, but he could see them fitting neatly into Ren’s cupped hands, which were large like his own. Was she wearing stays under the surcoat? Her breasts were sitting high and firm. He swallowed convulsively. 

Those legs, too, long and shapely, they’d need to be given the size of Ren – who was only a little broader than himself. He thought of them locked around his own waist. He was pulled from his waking wet dream by the repeated coughing of Lord North. 

“The Earl of Warwick, sire, and Lady Ren” he proclaimed. 

He greeted Neville and returned as soon as propriety allowed to the delectable Lady Ren. 

Up close, he could see the clarity of her hazel eyes and the pink perfection of her lips. She was the polar opposite of his wife in looks and figure, and all the more alluring for it. 

Damn, if only she wasn’t married to Ren, he’d take a chance on showing her the effect she had on him. 

He made his bow and stretched out to take her gloved hand to kiss. He dared to turn her hand over and pull down the cuff of her glove and expose and kiss the pulse point there. Her scent was clean and floral. 

He let go her hand and watched for the effect of his kiss on her. She blushed, casting her eyes down and then glancing up at him through her lashes before demurely dropping her eyes once more. 

His blood pulsed through him. Dear Lord, she was better medicine than any doctor or tonic, he’d better reunite her with Ren before he overstepped. 

As he stepped away, he noticed Neville had removed his hat in deference – as he should. He was just about to give belated permission to put it back on when his eye caught movement from Lady Ren. She too had noticed the absence of Neville’s hat and was removing her own in imitation. 

He felt breathless watching the torrent of dark, lustrous hair, the colour of horse chestnuts with red in the dark and gold in the light, cascading down over her shoulders to below her waist. 

The sight of her, head lowered in deference to him, pretty pink cheeks complimenting her sun kissed skin and her shapely figure cloaked with shiny, shimmering hair nearly undid him. After a short struggle, he adopted an avuncular tone. 

“Come, Lady Ren, let me reunite you with your husband, whom I left pining for the sight of you.” 

He nodded to Lord North, who received her hat from her and, beckoning to Neville to follow, they made their way to his wife’s quarters – Rey’s arm tucked in his. 

+++++ 

Kylo was missing his wife. The prince had welcomed him with open arms and had listened with fascination to the account of his redeeming and subsequent oath and marriage. Although he laughed at the confirmation his friend was married, he secretly thought he looked very well on it. The best he’d ever seen him. 

A stickler for the code of chivalry, he intended to honour his old friend’s oath without penalty. 

He prevailed on him to stay for at least one day, to visit and talk of times old and new. 

Although Kylo was aching to return to his wife and Les Romarins, he knew Silencer and Tie needed to rest at least one day after their exertions. He had not ceased to regret his decision. 

Some of his past lovers were among the ladies of the court. Time had softened their memory of him casting them off when done with them and recalled only his pleasuring of them and his stamina in bed. When they saw him looking younger than his age, so well cared for and with such a fine physique, the rivalry for his first favour was intense. 

He, however, had changed. The only body he wanted to possess was that of his wife’s. The only kisses and touches he wished to receive were those of his wife’s. 

He had forgotten how the ladies of the court chose to dress, in imitation of the prince’s wife – bosoms all but exposed. If it wasn’t for the costly nature of the fabrics tightly draped around their bodies without the decency of petticoats beneath them, he would have taken them for common bawds, touched only by the basest of men. 

Their scent too was repulsive to him. They smelt stale, covering their persons with expensive perfumes that made him gag. He thought again of his wife’s clean scent, enhanced by the light floral perfume of her chamomile soap and the rosewater she used for her complexion. 

He missed the feel of her sun kissed skin under his hands and the sheen of her lovely dark chestnut hair spread across his chest. 

The large bosoms on display repulsed him. He longed for the feel of his wife’s pert breasts in his hands, suckling the pale nipples deep pink with his mouth. 

He currently had on his knee the worst of the harpies, as he’d come to think of them – Bazine Netal. 

How he had ever thought her attractive was beyond him. At one time she had matched him in passion measure for measure and she’d been the closest he’d come to thinking of marriage at that time. Then he’d caught her with another lover and that had been the end of it – Kylo Ren didn’t share. 

She was now a widow looking for husband number two. She had not taken the news of his marriage well, but, within the hour, had decided to revive their dalliance and enjoy his body once more. 

He’d taken refuge with Dopheld in an obscure welsh knight’s quarters - she had been so persistent in trying to bed him last night. How he had missed his wife, after promising never to forsake her bed again. 

Bazine was pressed close to him, arms twined around his neck. Short of throwing her to the ground ... he endured, waiting for an opportunity to escape and hide. 

The longing thoughts for his wife had caused a certain part of him to stir in memory and sympathy. Bazine let out a squeal of laughter, believing she had proven irresistible to him once more with her charms, and called out a loud coarse remark about his penis, some of the other ladies tittering. 

It was unfortunate that the prince chose to enter his wife’s quarters with Rey on his arm at that moment. As everyone scrambled to their feet in the royal presence, Kylo looked across and his eyes met the icy stare of his wife. The expression on her face was unmistakable, her face immobile with lips compressed, her eyes sending him a glare of disapproval and disappointment. 

He stood abruptly and Bazine did indeed get thrown to the ground. 

“Sweetheart” he cried out joyfully, crossing the distance between them in long strides. 

It was as if he had never spoken. 

She stood by the prince’s side, her arm linked in his, neither moving or acknowledging her husband. 

His heart sank. 

The prince exerted himself to reconcile husband and wife, having also heard Bazine’s crude comment. 

“See, my lady, I restore you to your lord and master.” 

Rey snorted but did not answer. 

The prince looked at Kylo helplessly. 

“Rey it’s not what you think.” 

“Oh, and what do I think, M’sieur, do you add mind reading to your talents now?” 

She had dropped her customary use of Monseigneur and there was a sharp edge to her voice - he knew he was in trouble. 

“Now wife, don’t take that tone with me” responded Kylo, deciding to exert a husband’s authority. 

That was a mistake. 

“What tone would that be, M’sieur, the tone of a wife who walks into a room and finds her husband in the arms of a veritable trollop?” 

“One night you were away from me and what do I find? You’ve been dipping into the hole of a particularly greasy well.” 

Kylo blanched and the prince took in a sharp inhale of breath at the insult to a lady of the court. 

“M’sieur, I find I do not wish to be married to such a one as you. I will speak to my uncle and have this mistake annulled. I find I do not enjoy being married to an Englishman.” 

She turned to the prince “Unless it was to you, sire, or the so charming Sir Poe.” 

Finn looked disturbed at this baiting of his lifelong friend. 

“What’s this, snapped Kylo, choosing to ignore the threat, what has Dameron been doing that you find him so charming when before you hated him? And why is your hair uncovered?” 

“It is a secret” pronounced Rey loftily, twisting the said hair to coil over one shoulder, a sultry look on her face. This was an action she usually undertook before she took him in her mouth or rode him. Its significance was not lost on him. 

Enraged, Kylo reached out to grab her by the shoulders, drawing her closer to him. 

“Now then, wife, don’t you trifle with me. Answer! What has he been doing with you that you find him so charming and let down your hair for him?” 

“Let me go, she cried wriggling from his grasp, you beast, you ... you English!” 

Finn thought it time to intervene in this escalation of the lovers’ quarrel. 

“Dameron was only a little while in her company and I was there all the time.” 

Rey shot him a sly look and interrupted, “Ah, but had you not been there, what then?” 

Stealing a glance at her husband’s thunderous face, she added “He told me he wished he’d had the opportunity to compete for my love. Then he asked to be my beau-chevalier. She shrugged her shoulders, I said I’d think on it, and then I let him take the scarf from my hair as a pledge instead.” 

Finn eyes widened in concern at this incendiary speech and accompanying lies. 

“And he kissed me more than once ... (she deliberately paused here the better to inflame her husband’s jealousy) ... on my hand.” 

Kylo barely heard the latter part of this speech. 

An image was in his mind of his wife being kissed by another man, his hands entangled in her unbound hair. 

Another man beguiling her with his lovemaking, uncovering her hair and tying her scarf about his sword arm to show off before other men - her husband for instance – that she thought he, in fact, was the better man. 

He thought he would lose his mind with the hot jealousy coursing through his veins. 

Rey, having discharged her duty and succeeded in tormenting her husband, turned to the bemused prince. 

“Sire, I find that there is nothing here that concerns me. I bid you adieu and thank you for your consideration.” 

Confused, the prince looked at Rey and then Kylo. 

“My lady, I believe there has been a misunderstanding. Please, let us go somewhere private and make all right.” 

Rey’s expression became stubborn. 

“Sire, I have eyes and ears, I know what I saw and heard. There is nothing here that can be made right, except I free myself from this inconstant man.” 

“Rey, growled Kylo, do not say that again. It is not safe to say that again.” 

Rey looked at him directly “Ah, bah!” 

There was such insolence in her face and voice, her husband’s face darkened in a scowl and his eyes went black. 

How it would have gone thereafter is a matter for speculation. Bazine, however, taking Rey’s words literally, saw an opportunity and approached the group with a supercilious expression on her face. 

Raising her voice she said, with a distinct sneer, “Why, Kylo, is this the milkmaid you told me of?” 

A flicker of unease crossed Kylo’s face. 

Bazine’s eyes cast up and down Rey’s slender figure. 

“My, but what an ordinary little creature she is to be sure.” 

Rey shot back without thinking, “Indeed, Madame, and therefore of no use to you, it taking an extraordinary milkmaid to milk such a cow as you.” 

A red flush erupted under Bazine’s rouged cheeks. 

“Why, you flat chested little nobody. No wonder Kylo sought me out again. In my bed he always knew he embraced a woman and not a boy.” 

The knowledge that Bazine had indeed been her husband’s lover, and the assertion that she was once more, caused Rey to truly lose her temper. 

Her jealousy spiking, the war of words was over. Her fists came up just as Papa Pierre-Marie had taught her. Adjusting her stance and swinging with her left, her fist connected with Bazine’s jaw. There was a loud _thwack_ as the blow struck and Bazine collapsed in a heap. 

Almost seamlessly, she pivoted to the left and brought the heel of her right hand to connect with Kylo’s nose, her full force behind it. 

He staggered back with the force of the blow and the pain, gouts of blood spurting forth from his abused nose. 

“I will have my annulment, she hissed at him fiercely, and I wish you well with your painted whore.” 

At that, she turned on her heel and left.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go!
> 
> nom de nom = an exclamation. there is a literal translation, but it probably equates with the english saying 'the devil' or something similar
> 
> salope(s) = slut(s)

Rey left a scene of pandemonium and chaos behind her. Dopheld, hearing of her arrival and sauntering in to greet her, had taken one look at the scene before him and put a hand over his mouth to hide his grin. 

He saw Bazine lying prone on the floor, the princess’s ladies fluttering around her comforting her in her hysterics. Finn was holding Kylo’s head back and pinching the bridge of his nose trying to stop the flow from a bloodied nose. The prince was bellowing for Lord North, who came at the run and was ordered to fetch a surgeon, no, two surgeons. 

Dopheld had been an eyewitness to Bazine’s pursuit of Kylo and was guessing she’d tried something in front of Rey. He had no doubt his friend was deeply loved by his wife, but he also knew that her character meant she took no prisoners if angered – or was made jealous. He favoured the latter in this case, observing the bruise already blooming on Bazine’s jawline and the gurgling sound his friend was making as blood was catching in his throat. 

“Finn," he called, "bring his head forward.” 

Stepping around the group surrounding Bazine, he retrieved a chair for his injured friend to sit on. Kylo was spitting blood into a handkerchief supplied by the prince and recovered enough to gasp out “Dopheld, go after her, she may be already on the road.” 

Dopheld nodded, and then realising his friend’s head was lowered once more answered in the affirmative adding “I’m guessing this is the work of the missus?” 

“My fault, Dopheld, all my fault, she was upset and I handled it badly. Tell her, Dopheld, tell her Bazine means nothing to me, never has meant anything to me.” 

He continued without irony “My poor wife, tell her I’m sorry to have wounded her. Assure her of my love. Tell her I beg her forgiveness. Tell her I apologise for causing her pain.” 

Dopheld turned to go, muttering under his breath “Besotted.” 

He stopped only to retrieve his hat, gloves and whip, then headed for the picket lines where, sure enough, the lady had had her horse saddled and left in a hurry just minutes ago. He ordered his own horse to be brought, checked the girth’s and swung into the saddle tossing the valet a silver coin. 

He touched his heels into Tie’s flanks and carefully made his way through the camp. Once onto the main road, he turned Tie’s head in the direction Les Romarins lay and urged him into a loping canter. 

He soon caught up with her, noting her pinched look as she turned to look behind her at the sound of Tie’s hooves. She was obviously regretting her precipitous flight judging by the relief on her face at the sight of him. 

He slowed to a walk and called out “Good morrow” as he approached. 

The horses walked companionably for a few minutes, both riders not speaking after she had returned his greeting. 

He watched her out of the corner of his eye, she was biting her bottom lip and was tense judging by her horse’s nervous mouthing of his bit and erratic gait. 

“Kylo sent me," he said casually, "he would have come himself, but... " his voice trailed off. 

“You saw?” 

He nodded. 

“Dopheld, he was untrue to me with a trollop he knew from before. I always knew there had been others because of... ” She stopped speaking and then began again. 

“I had hoped he had affection for me as I have for him, but it was just use he made of me until he could return to his old way of life – I see that now.” Her voice broke and she was silent once more. 

These two he thought, exasperated. 

“Rey, he has not been untrue to you, he hasn’t and he won’t. He loves you, wholly and sincerely.” 

“No, Dopheld, you don’t understand. She told me in front of him, they had been lovers before and were again.” 

“This woman, was she named Bazine perchance?” 

She shrugged. “She was a vile looking creature, all rouge and artifice. And what she was wearing, _Nom de nom_! It was indecent even for a prostitute – which, of course, she is. No decent woman could keep company with her, believe me, and not be thought to be in the same profession.” 

He started to laugh. 

“She copies the princess, but unfortunately for her the princess can carry it off and make it look glamorous.” 

“You mean to say the princess dresses like a harlot? Mon Dieu, no wonder the prince looked at me as though he wanted to eat me.” 

“Did he now? Let’s hope Kylo doesn’t find out or they’ll fall out badly.” 

She turned to him wide eyed. 

“You mean to say that man will sleep with a trollop yet quarrel with the prince for looking with admiration at me? Hypocrite! Why would he do that when he has cast me off? Do you make fun of me Dopheld? Because if so... ” 

She had pulled up and was looking at him fiercely. 

“Rey, he is not ‘that man’, he is your husband and he will quarrel with any man who touches you or thinks of touching you. You heard his words to Dameron, the man who tries to take you from him dies.” 

She looked at him as though working out a puzzle before giving up and observing, “I think the english quite mad.” 

“Rey bach, we welsh have been saying that for years. Look now, Kylo didn’t sleep with Bazine, he slept by me. She wouldn’t leave him be, that is true, but we found refuge with a countryman of mine. I can confirm he slept alone - and badly at that as he was pining for you.” 

“Dopheld," she breathed, "is this true? Can it really be so?” 

“I swear it Rey. You think he had no choice but to stay with you. That is not true. He took that sacred oath because he wanted to be with you. He relies on you to make of him what you will as long as he can be your husband. Yes, he has a past with women, but he’s an attractive man and passionate in his nature. I haven’t known him as long as Finn has, but I know of him and he has never been this way with any woman but you.” 

He shifted in the saddle, unsure of how much to say. Finally he settled on, “Rey, for a while he stopped being able to be with women that way, he was so sickened by the way they used him – until you.” 

She put her forearm against her eyes and bowed low in the saddle. He edged forward ready to catch the bridle of her mount that was shifting about uneasily. 

He put a wheedling note in his voice “Rey bach, let’s return to him now. All he wants is your forgiveness, to hold you in his arms and tell you how much he loves you. Come, Rey, we’ll be with him in a trice.” 

“I can’t." She lifted a tearstained face to him. "You don’t know what I’ve done. I tried to be good, really I did. Papa Pierre-Marie told me to be good and I was. Only that _salope_ was sat on his knee when I entered the room and said... and said she would soon have a part of him in her again and she had caused it to be.” 

He blanched. That would do it, he thought, anyone who knew her would be able to predict Rey’s reaction to such provocation. 

“And then he called me ‘wife’ in the most odious way. And then she called me a milkmaid and told me that Monseigneur had been her lover and was again, and then I...” 

He looked at her expectantly. 

Her chin went up. “And then I punched her and broke Monseigneur’s nose," her voice faltered, "in front of the prince.” 

She hung her head. 

“So you see I can’t go back. I simply can’t.” 

+++++ 

Bishop Lor San Tekka arrived home from Paris late at night – the day Kylo and Dopheld agreed to accompany Dameron to Chateau Varykino. 

By some oversight he was not given his niece’s letter, written and delivered by Finn, probably because the night porter had not been told of it and was the only servant awake in the house. He dismissed his bodyguard to their beds and retired himself, only drinking a glass of wine before he settled down to sleep. 

He was exhausted from all his journeying on the king’s business and dropped into a dreamless sleep, awaking a couple of hours after dawn. He washed and dressed and made private devotions in his room. He then made his leisurely way downstairs to break his fast. It seemed that his household had not long realised he had returned. 

Servants ran to provide their master with breakfast and he received numerous apologies for their tardiness before locking himself in his library to drink his beer in peace and to eat his bread and omelette. 

Appetite satisfied, he then leafed through the various documents left on his desk for him to read and saw a folded missive in an unfamiliar hand. A frown appeared as he read it and had deepened to a scowl by the time he reached the end of it. 

He stood and quickly walked from the room shouting for his house steward. Very rarely did the bishop raise his voice to his servants or show anything but a serene demeanour. His steward stood before him, trembling. 

“Why was this not brought to my immediate attention he shouted?" waving the letter before the frightened man. "When was it delivered?” 

The man murmured it had come the previous evening, delivered by one of the English milord. The one betrothed to Lady Connix. 

“Fetch me Frere Pierre-Marie,” the bishop demanded. 

“Your Grace, Frere Pierre-Marie is not here. He has gone.” 

“Gone where?” 

“To Les Romarins, Monseigneur, yesterday, with the english milord.” 

The bishop could barely restrain himself. “Tell me everything," he hissed. 

One hour later he was on the road to Les Romarins with an escort of ten liveried servants, all armed. 

Frere Pierre-Marie was found working in the garden with the two serving girls, accompanied by the two hounds. He was glad to impart what he knew, which wasn’t very much, but could confirm that his niece had indeed taken herself off to Chateau Varykino with Neville, mounted on one of his best horses, to reclaim her captured husband. 

The bishop groaned aloud. 

“Where has her sense of caution gone, Papa? Where is the biddable, mostly obedient girl we raised?” 

Frere Pierre-Marie shrugged. “She is in love, Monseigneur.” 

The bishop groaned again. 

“And if the prince won’t give him back?” 

“I have told her how to be with the English prince," Frere Pierre-Marie consoled. "He will not be able to resist her beauty and freshness. All his chivalric instincts will be directed to please her. I know the English - sentiment is very strong with the. Underneath that _froideur_ beat romantic hearts.” 

He shifted on his feet, looking at the ground. “And, besides, if the English court etiquette has not changed, I anticipate he will be as one astounded by the beauty of la petite.” 

The bishop eyed him suspiciously. “Do I want to know how?” 

Frere Pierre-Marie grinned at him “Probably not. Rest assured, she will come to no harm. The name and reputation of her husband will be protection enough among the english.” 

The bishop looked at him, opened his mouth as if to say something, and then closed it again. 

He swung himself into the saddle and looked down upon his wily priest. “Can I persuade you to come with me and bring her home?” 

“Ha, and leave these young girls alone with a handsome young man?" nodding toward the escort. "I think not.” 

“Then we will talk privately when I get back. Adieu.” 

At that, he touched his whip to his hat in farewell, wheeled his horse and was very soon gone from sight. 

+++++ 

Unable to get her to return to Chateau Varykino, and perhaps it’s for the best after the hell she’s raised, Dopheld suggested they make their way home stopping off just short of the midway point at a convent. 

They will be able to ask for food and shelter and he is determined to delay them there, guessing his friend will follow them once his nose has been tended to. Thankfully, she agrees. 

He then persuaded her to swap mounts, knowing Tie is a much more forgiving ride than the young chestnut she’s mounted on, whom though a fine animal is nervy and is picking up on the tension in Rey’s body and getting confused by her lack of clear direction. 

He boosted her into the saddle, adjusting the stirrups for her. Once mounted and settled on the young horse he set off at a smart trot, driving the youngling well up to his bit and feeling the horse settle and respond under him. The pace he set forced Rey to pay attention and they started to cover the miles. 

Two hours later they caught sight of the convent – Dopheld had already determined on an overnight stay. They have asked a lot of the horses, which clearly need to rest and, with another three hours riding ahead before reaching Les Romarins, it is better that they all rest. Rey is a competent rider, but she lacks practice and is clearly flagging. He is also mindful she is carrying Kylo’s child. He is pleased with the chestnut though, just a little more schooling to give confidence and he’ll be perfect. This is the kind of horse Dopheld would love to breed. 

Although Dopheld longed for a sight of the mountains of his native land, he knew his future was in France. He needs to buy land here and bond with it, put down roots, and he has some ideas about that. He will grow wheat, he sees the sense in that, but he also hopes to buy enough land to both farm and breed the horses he has such affinity with. He also has an idea of the sort of wife he wants too. 

Meanwhile, he needs to manage his friend’s wife. Kylo once remarked to him that his (completely perfect) wife has a tendency toward stubbornness. He has seen enough to consider that a fair assessment. Never before has he seen his friend back down from a fight, or subject himself to a woman – until her. He hopes to capture a love like that for himself. 

+++++ 

Kylo felt light-headed with the amount of blood he’d lost. The surgeon came and approved Dopheld’s instructions. He tended to Bazine, who is more shocked than hurt. She is using abusive language about a milkmaid she has met recently, a skinny one without breasts. He suspects hysteria and administers an opiate, determined to bleed her later to let out the ill humours from her spleen. 

When she has been carried away, quieter and more manageable, he returned to Kylo’s side and reset his nose, gluing a sliver of a shaving of soft wood across the bridge of his nose as a splint. 

Sighing that the wonderful patrician nose will have a permanent bump in it, despite his best efforts, he asked what accident caused the break and there is a general shuffling of feet and casting down of eyes. When he eventually leaves, he’s none the wiser. 

His patient, he hears, intends to mount up and ride in pursuit of some person of importance. He protests, in fact forbidding it, in the certainty the bleeding will break out again. 

Cognac coloured eyes meet his, the left eye twitches, and full lips thin as much as their fullness allows. He gives up his urging, recognising a tendency toward stubbornness when he sees it. Bowing, he exits the room – on the patient’s head be it. 

Kylo’s surcoat is ruined with the blood spilt on it. The prince took him to his apartment to change it for one of his (both are over six feet tall), and to let his friend wash his face and hands of the dried blood on them. As his friend washed and dressed, he turned the conversation to his current favourite topic – Ren’s wife. 

It becomes apparent to Kylo that his friend had become physically excited by the presence of his wife, and her jealous display has done her no harm in his eyes – rather to the contrary, it has excited him more. 

Kylo managed to control his jealous temper – just. He cited his blood loss for his quietness and monosyllabic answers. He finds it very difficult to hear his friend wax lyrical about his wife’s many physical charms without resorting to violence – her person is sacred to him and is not for others to obsess over. 

At last he is ready to take to the road, the prince gripping his hand and urging him to bring his wife back so that she may ‘adorn his court’. 

The prince has brought his wife’s ladies with him, apparently, but left his wife with their infant son in Aquitaine, not trusting the french king and not wanting to leave his wife behind if he has to ride hard for home. 

Kylo bows and mutters something that may be assent – or not – fixing a smile on his face and determining he will take his wife anywhere, to Timbuktu if need be, anywhere but the prince’s court. 

Taking his final leave, the prince sobered and asked him to leave Neville as he has grave matters to discuss with him. 

Encountering Finn, who had been on the watch for him, he passed on the prince’s message and embraced his friend. 

Will Finn be alright travelling home by himself? Finn grins and asks will he? Oh! Wait, he won’t be alone, he’s going to find his wife, _his very upset and jealous wife!_

Kylo punched his arm lightly and laughed before striding off. However, a worry crept into his heart over his friend’s words. 

Taking to the road, he managed Silencer’s pace sympathetically knowing that his horse, although brave and willing, really needs more rest. As he approached the midway point of his journey and the convent of St. Genevieve, he spotted a familiar figure sitting by the roadside drinking from a large tankard. 

“Dopheld, why are you here? Where’s my wife?” anxiety is palpable in his voice. 

Dopheld rose and stretched out his body, squinting up at his friend. 

“Don’t worry, Kylo bach, she’s here. I persuaded her to stay here overnight in the guest quarters. Being in a house of religion seems to do her good; she acquiesced without as much as a murmur.” He grinned up at his friend. 

Kylo laughed too - partly in relief, partly in acknowledgement of the implication. His wife, although completely perfect, has a tendency toward stubbornness. 

“Take me to her Dopheld. Is she well? Does she forgive?” 

Dopheld rolled his eyes. 

“Keep me out of it. Talk to her yourself. I will say she's repentant for punching Bazine in front of the prince. Not for punching Bazine," he grinned, "but for doing it in front of the prince.” 

Kylo didn’t join in the mirth, but looked unsettled. Dopheld showed him some measure of mercy. 

“She doubted you when I first caught up with her. I think she doesn’t doubt you anymore.” 

The expression of joy and relief which flooded Kylo’s face took him aback. 

Kylo swung himself out of the saddle, leading Silencer to the stables under the direction of his friend. 

“There’s a very good groom here," Dopheld remarked, "only young but knows horses and is conscientious. They are in safe hands.” 

Albert, the groom, came to meet them, his eyes gleaming with admiration of the massive black stallion with his long black mane and tail, taking him from Kylo’s charge eagerly. Dopheld had anticipated Kylo’s arrival and ordered a mash to be prepared against Silencer’s coming. 

Dopheld led a trembling Kylo to where his wife was quartered. He looked upon him with amazement. His tall friend was as nervous as a virgin going to his marriage bed, sweating and rubbing one hand nervously against the luxurious velvet of his rather smart surcoat. 

“Hey," Dopheld chided, "you’ll ruin that.” 

His friend looked down and snatched back his hand. 

“What if she sends me away, Dopheld? How am I to bear it?” 

Dopheld let out a short laugh. 

“Kylo bach, I told you, being in a house of religion has had a marvellous effect on her. Just say the right words and she’ll behave wonderfully. 

He winked at his friend – they were now both standing before a wooden door. 

“I’ll have them bring you some food and drink, you must be famished. Don’t start anything until the servants have been, and then make sure you secure the door before defiling the room.” 

Another wink and then he was gone. 

Kylo stood before the door leaning his forehead against it, fighting down panic. If she rejected him - oh, Lord, if she rejects him, please take him, because he can’t live without her. 

He put up his whip and tapped the wooden door with it then pushed it open. 

She was stood in a pool of late afternoon sunlight dressed in the yellow dress she had worn at the harvest thanksgiving. She looked so beautiful, her hair down, a silk scarf twisted through it. His heart started to pound in his chest, fear and hope in equal measure coursing through his veins. 

He opened his mouth “Sweetheart.” 

She was in his arms before he finished speaking. 

+++++ 

Dopheld confiding that Kylo had become less of a man due to mistreatment at the hands of the _salopes_ at the prince’s court had nearly undone her. 

Had she not behaved so badly, she would have returned to him immediately, however, she had behaved badly – contrary to all of Papa Pierre-Marie’s best advice. She was ashamed. 

As they rode to the convent of St. Genevieve she considered her situation and decided that her passionate, jealous husband – if he was still hers – would follow as soon as he was able. She decided, therefore, to persuade Dopheld to make an overnight stay, keeping a watch on the road for Monseigneur. 

She was also suffering physically. Papa Pierre-Marie had taught her to ride and she was competent in the saddle. However, everyday practicality dictated that she use her cart and so was badly out of practice. She had been so focused on retrieving her husband she had been able to ignore her bodily ills on the outward journey, she had not found the chestnut an easy ride. Now, however, her arms and legs ached and, as always, her passionate outburst had exhausted her emotionally and physically. 

She also worried for her baby. She hoped that the child was well established in her womb, and was determined to take no further risk but to rest and guard their child’s wellbeing. It still felt strange to think they had a baby on the way. Hopefully, as her belly started to swell, the current sense of unreality which clung around her as heavily as Kylo’s military cloak would disappear. Meanwhile, she needed to make a start of thinking for two. 

She had seen the furtive looks at her attire by the sister/porter, and as she had no desire to be identified with any of the trollops at the prince’s court, she changed into her dress the instant she was alone in her room. 

Food and a pitcher of the convent’s homebrewed were brought and though she was famished, she nevertheless set a portion aside for Kylo. There was cold chicken pie and the french appreciation of food inherent in her debated as she ate, ‘was this sage they had put with it’? She would ask before she left. 

She heard a heavy tread and knew it to be her husband, accompanied by a lighter step – Dopheld. 

Then he was stood before her. Some sort of splint on his poor abused nose and two black eyes starting. He had smiled that lopsided smile upon seeing her and she was moving forward to him before he had finished his greeting – that one word which meant everything to her. 

+++++ 

He was sorry. No, she was sorry. His surcoat dropped from his shoulders as she carried his sword and belt to lie on the table. 

He ought to have come away as soon as the prince gave him leave. No, she was at fault, her temper had flared and – well, he knew the rest. Her dress pooled at her feet and he was peeling off his shirt. 

He unfastened her stays and she was untying the tapes on her petticoat as he tugged off his boots. She would try to be more like the wife he wanted. What! Must he scold her already? She was exactly the sort of wife he wanted. 

He had loosened her garters and was rolling down her stockings as she sat on the bed. She was untying the laces on his hose. She had made a sacred vow; she would never lose her temper with him again. 

He grinned up at her, knelt at her feet, hair flopping down over his face. Thank the Lord for that - once was enough! At the sight of him, his dimpled boyish look and his features marred by her hand, the strong jolting wetness came and she lurched forward to kiss him passionately. Pressing her tongue against his lips and fisting his hair. 

They broke for air and she just needed to get this chemise off. He was hopping on one foot trying to get out of his hose. At last she was free of the wretched garment and knelt naked in the middle of the bed awaiting him. 

Then he was in her arms and the touch of him, his skin satin soft over hard muscles which rippled as he moved beneath her hands. Oh, Lord, the feel and the scent of him. She begged that he join with her at once, grasping his penis and with her other hand parting her folds, guiding him in. They writhed together over the pristine coverlet of the bed, oblivious as to who might be about. She arched her back and cried out, he came with a shout. They laid there for minutes before parting. 

As he gathered her to him, his warmth fended off the coolness of the room. 

She confessed: everything she had said was to make him jealous. To wound him as she believed he had wounded her. 

She could not describe how she felt to see that prostitute on his lap, hearing her crude jest, hearing she had been his lover and was once more. So she had lied and exaggerated hoping to cause him pain. 

She had made no promise, given no pledge to Dameron. She had taken off her hat in deference to the prince and her unbound hair had fallen free – only his hands had ever wound themselves in her hair or touched her intimately. 

The truth was she loved him and only him. 

His arms tightened around her at this. 

He spoke. 

He too had been jealous, only because he loved her and had loved her since first he set eyes on her whilst he stood on the scaffold. He had never loved another – would never love another. 

He had not defiled himself with Bazine last night or with any other woman of the prince’s court, would not and could not. His body longed only for her. 

His truth was the same as hers – he loved her and wished only to be with her the rest of his days. 

They drifted off into sleep, bodies entwined, murmuring vows to the last – exchanging kisses as pledges of their love. 

They emerged from their room the next day with the arrival of her uncle. 

+++++ 

Lor San Tekka had held a productive meeting with the prince, he and Finn both. A strategy for future days had been devised. 

Arriving at St. Genevieve’s and hearing of his niece’s condition, he determined a three day holiday there to help her fully recover. He dismissed all but two of his bodyguard, joking that having three knights’, two men at arms _and his niece_ should be protection enough. He cast a sly look toward her and noted the deep blush staining her cheeks. 

On arrival he had looked upon Kylo’s abused nose with accompanying blackened eyes and transferred his gaze immediately to his niece. She stood there, all downcast eyes and wringing hands - the culprit being self-evident. 

He walked over to her and kissed both her cheeks in greeting. She looked up at him all misty eyed relief – she had anticipated interrogation and his subsequent displeasure. 

He smiled down at her instead and said “I will hear your confession today, before Mass.” 

He said it for the pleasure of watching her squirm – she squirmed. 

The bishop spent his days at St. Genevieve’s in prayer and contemplation, glad to be out of the world for a little while. 

He enjoyed the company of his niece and her Les Romarins family, marvelling at the pleasure Kylo took being in the company of his wife – his love of her and his wanting to be at home with her. 

Every word she uttered, he noted, was listened to intently and he often drew her onto his knee or into his arms - unselfconscious of company in his need to have hold of her. 

That was his power over her, the bishop mused, in needing her so badly he was badly needed in return. 

He had heard his niece’s confession - which proved to be illuminating. 

He imposed penances, dried her tears and blew her nose, and then repeated the advices he and Papa Pierre-Marie had imparted over the years about the curbing of her passionate nature, before relinquishing the management of her to her husband. 

He spent time in conversation with Dopheld, who confided in him his hopes for the future, and he determined to help the young man if he could. 

At last, reluctantly, it was time to leave. 

The bishop bestowed on the convent a present of gold coin which ensured its prosperity for some years - and discretion regarding the uninhibited conjugal behaviour of his niece and her husband. 

Each of them gave two gold coins to Albert, who tearfully told them he could now marry his sweetheart, Celestine. Her father had threatened to give her to another and he’d been in despair before they came. 

He knelt to receive the bishop’s blessing. 

They set a leisurely pace, Rey mounted on Tie while Dopheld managed the chestnut beautifully. 

Kylo had put Tie on a leading rein the better to care for his wife. 

The weather favoured them and it was with both joy and regret they caught sight of the towers and turrets of home. 

Dogs and maids ran forward in ecstatic greeting, Papa Pierre-Marie barrelling after them over the bridge. 

His sharp eyes took in Kylo’s nose and his bruised eyes, and swivelled to look at Rey. She felt a twinge of annoyance that she was immediately thought of to be the culprit. There was no time for interrogation though; he must ride the nervy chestnut home. 

They stood in the roadway waving until the bishop and his entourage were out of sight. Then the knights headed to the yard to tend the horses. 

Accompanied by her maids, she turned her weary wandering feet to cross once more over the threshold of the home she loved so much.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go, chapter 19.
> 
> just a heads up. this is a work of fiction and dates and events have been manipulated to best suit the story - certain characters have been invented and bear no relation to historical fact. 
> 
> that being said - enjoy!

The french king was not a warrior, but he was a politician – a man of great subtlety and craftiness, _Le Sage_ his people called him – The Wise. If he needed a blunt instrument he called on du Guesclin, who was happy to oblige – at a price. 

When the prince left Aquitaine du Guesclin, who had moved his mercenaries in secret to the Spanish border, crossed over and besieged Pedro, who promptly offered him a bribe and put himself under du Guesclin’s protection. Du Guesclin pocketed the bribe and handed him over to Enrique, who put him to death. 

The Spanish War of Succession was over. 

Upon hearing the news, the prince returned with all speed to Aquitaine. The stress put an end to the period of remission he was in and the last miles of his journey saw him carried in a litter. 

It became clear he had lost the support of the majority of bordelais nobles due to the hated hearth tax and, with no money forthcoming from his father, he returned to England with all his affinity – it being made clear he would never return. 

A remnant of the nobility loyal to him held out for a little while, but the french king abolished the fouage and declared no taxes on the wines of Bordeaux for five years. By Easter, Aquitaine was once more ruled unopposed by France and the economy was set for recovery. 

Things were very bad between the prince and his father for a while. Resentment and mistrust festered between them, egged on by the king’s rapacious mistress and her Mignons. Finally, the king understood the chronic nature of his eldest son’s condition and its future implications and they were publicly and tearfully reconciled. 

Some eighteen months after Kaydel and Finn were betrothed Raymond de la Mare received another letter from the bishop which caused him to hurry to the palace. 

The upshot of this meeting was the marriage of Finn and Kaydel within a month of the summons, the bishop himself officiating, Raymond looking splendid in new clothes and exuding bonhomie toward all the well connected guests. 

Easter followed hard on the heels of the marriage and the exiled Pope, celebrating the festival in Avignon, mentioned Finn’s mother during the Easter Mass by name and title as ‘our most Christian daughter’. 

He then was the officiant at three further Masses dedicated to her name and memory, again referring to her as ‘our most Christian daughter’ and approved a chantry to say two thousand Masses in her memory. 

A large hole was dug into the accumulated allowance paid by Lady Neville. 

An embassy from the Pope was then assembled to travel to England and petition the king to appoint a royal commission to look into the legitimacy of Finn Neville and the Will of the late Earl of Warwick. After some negotiation and documents from the Levant produced confirming Neville’s mother as Christian, this was granted. The Prince of Wales, now an invalid, let it be known the commission had his fullest approval. 

The reach of the countess was long and Kaydel and Finn were taken to the fortress of her de la Mare relatives from the church door and a close guard kept on them, their food tasted before they ate. Only the most trusted servants were allowed to approach them and grandfather de la Mare’s veterans were appointed as their bodyguard. 

Two children, one poisoning and two assassination attempts later, the Will of the late Earl was deemed fraudulent and Lady Neville kept under close guard with her son. 

Finn, Kaydel, and their household, accompanied by Raymond de la Mare, then travelled to England obedient to a summons from the English court. An assassination attempt was made as they embarked, easily cut down by the veterans - Finn and Raymond drawing their swords to protect Kaydel and the children. 

They were rushed on disembarkation, some of the assailants proving to be the very sailors who had brought them safely to port. Again, the veterans did their work and all the assassins were cut down. 

They were ambushed on the road to London by a large group of armed men. Once again the veterans repelled the attack although wounds were incurred this time, though none of a serious nature. Kaydel and her children were once again prime targets and Finn and Raymond once more beat off the attackers with drawn swords. 

That was the last of it and the restoration and investing of Finn and Kaydel as Earl and Countess of Warwick was complete. Then, in public ceremony, Finn swore an oath of allegiance to the prince’s son. The solemn little boy holding Finn’s hands between his own throughout, his uncles and their sons looking on. 

They travelled north to take possession of the fortress which was the family home of the Neville’s and rebuild the Neville affinity, which had lapsed under the late Lady Neville (it was given out that she had died of great displeasure). The estate was found to have been well managed, though. 

Finn then met his half brother and the resemblance to his late father was unmistakable. We can lose the recollection of our departed loved ones faces over time - their features blur in memory and threaten to become lost to us. Gazing into his brother’s frightened eyes, the eyes of his father, Finn choked and pulled him into a tight embrace and then kissed him, weeping all the while. 

His brother had not been trained in arms - he was given to study and not martial pursuits. Over the years he became one of Finn’s dearest companions and entrusted to manage the estate on a day to day basis. He married, and he and his own family lived within the shelter of the vast fortress. 

Warwick, as he was now known, watched over the prince’s son after the death of his father and grandfather. He and Kaydel were more or less at court permanently during the king’s minority raising their own family there, his half brother holding fast the northern lands in his name - his mere presence at court deterring any thoughts of usurpation. 

Alas, in maturity the king was a difficult man. Conscious of his dead father’s reputation as a warrior and his own shortcomings in that regard, he shored up his fragile self esteem by insisting on the observance of rigid courtesies and court procedure - any perceived slights were punished by fines and banishments. Although Warwick survived unscathed in what become known as The Tyranny, his authority diminished as the king turned to other, less reliable counsels. 

Taking advantage of Warwick’s long absence from court – the Scots were raiding the northern reaches of his land putting all to fire and sword – the throne was usurped by the eldest son of the late prince’s second brother with the help of the prince’s stepsons. 

Warwick rode hard with his eldest sons and his entire affinity, having received the news on the battlefield fresh from defeating the Scots, his sword and coat of arms marred with blood, but he was too late. The Deed of Abdication had been signed and sealed - the king dead, a widower without children. 

Finn retreated to his lands and gave the usurper nothing but trouble the remainder of his days. 

+++++ 

Raymond de la Mare and his father’s veterans stayed in England for a year until sure that the patrimony was well established. He returned to France a wealthier man with presents given by a grateful Warwick, but also from men his father had fought in the French Wars. 

His Papa, it seemed, was regarded as a beau ideal of chivalry, in the French tradition of chivalry, by these ageing warriors. Raymond’s breast swelled with pride hearing of his Papa’s exploits on the battlefield and in tournaments. 

Certain elderly matrons also pressed delicately scented _billet doux_ into his hands to carry back to his Papa. They were passed to him covertly with soft sighs and murmured expressions of affection toward Papa. 

Raymond was disturbed at first – had Maman been made unhappy by Papa? No, surely not. He would not believe it. He perfected the art of bowing politely as he accepted them, later consigning them to the fire unread, just as Papa would want he was sure – Maman’s memory being sacred to both of them. 

He had written to his Papa every week whilst in England, recording all his doings and any gossip in the minutest detail. Once home, every day he reread one of these letters to him recapitulating details and remembering the messages entrusted to him, in turn listening to the old man’s reminisces. It gave his Papa great satisfaction in his last days to know his house was firmly established and to have Raymond home once more. 

Kaydel very early on established a reliable channel of communication and wrote regularly, the letters usually received around each quarter day and accompanied by rich gifts Easter, Christmas and New Year. These were eagerly anticipated and just as eagerly read and reread. The de la Mare’s proved useful in taking the pulse of the English court. 

The re-establishing of the (Francophile) Warwick patrimony into its rightful ownership had been a goal of the Valois king and his Valois Bishop of Theed (they were cousins) once Lor San Tekka realised just whom his niece was sheltering. It was just one of the many irons in the fire to get the English to go home and stay home. 

What did its success deliver? 

Almost fifty years of peace and the Valois patrimony solidly established while the (English) Capetian patrimony was almost irretrievably weakened, and the territory gained in thirty years of (expensive) war by them was retrieved within five years of the Prince of Wales heading for home. 

One last accolade was conferred on the de la Mare’s, whose fortress guarded the northern approach to Paris and with a daughter of the house so well placed at the English court. Their title was Baron. A prudent king gave them the hereditary title of Comte. 

When Raymond brought the news to his Papa, the old man wept for joy.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is - the final chapter.
> 
> My heartfelt thanks go out to all of you who left a kudos or a comment in support of this fic.
> 
> A special thanks to the 'three musketeers' - 13oct, Lucie and Ellie, who, unknowingly, got me through a credibility crisis about half way through posting this fic. 
> 
> What was life like at Les Romarins? Please, read on!

What of the household at Les Romarins? 

Neither Rey nor Ben was interested in leading public lives, in contrast to Finn and Kaydel. Les Romarins was enough, they were enough – and their children. 

Content with everyday lives, they raised their family, developed the demesne, consolidated friendships and alliances. 

Seven children altogether were born to Rey and Kylo or, rather, Ben when he reverted to his birth name after the birth of his firstborn. Rey seamlessly transitioned to Kenobi-Solo – she always addressed him as Monseigneur in public and in the household anyways. 

They loved being parents and Ben was a careful father – all too conscious of the deficiencies in his own upbringing. 

Their firstborn was a son. Rey begged to be allowed to breastfeed herself and was not denied. Watching her feed his children became Ben’s favourite thing. 

The boy had his father’s dark eyes and his mother’s sun kissed skin but was fair haired, bleaching blonde in the summer sun. 

When it became obvious his hair would not darken, the insecure part of Rey - which still doubted Ben - caused her to go on her knees before him and beg him to believe she had not played him false and not to cast her aside. Laughing, he raised her to her feet and told her his uncle was fair haired too, as had been Anakin, and that he had never given thought to the colour of their son’s hair. She wept with relief and doubted no more. 

Another six children followed spread over ten years and the manor rang out with noise and laughter and the barking of dogs, Rey loved it. 

+++++ 

When Plutt’s estate was sold by the agents of the french king (Plutt having no heirs living, it reverted to the crown), Rey and Ben acquired another 500 acres of land from it, land adjoining theirs. The wheat fields of Les Romarins became part of local folklore. 

Dopheld was helped to acquire the rest of Plutt’s estate by the bishop. He didn’t quite have enough money, but the 500 acres bought by Les Romarins reduced the cost of the lot and a loan from them helped him acquire the remaining 6,000 acres, 1,500 acres of which he set aside to breed horses. 

He still lodged at Les Romarins, and dual management of both estates seemed to evolve without actual planning to. 

+++++ 

When Marie-Claude was seventeen years old, a beautiful and accomplished young woman, Dopheld, judging that she had just enough aristocratic blood for him to avoid the censure of his family, proposed marriage and they were betrothed by the bishop himself. A couple of days later he rode to visit Armand Hux, Comte de Theed, to claim an allowance in right of his betrothed, Armand’s illegitimate daughter. 

The Comte laughed in his face and got ready to have his servants throw him out after administering a whipping to him – Dopheld being a rabid cur and therefore not worthy of his sword. Dopheld pulled a deposition from his breast given to the bishop’s notary by Marie-Claude’s mother confirming Armand as the natural father. 

Armand wavered learning of the bishop’s interest in the case and Dopheld invited him to be at first Mass that Sunday to take a look at his betrothed. He did - she was undoubtedly his daughter and negotiations were opened. Dopheld secured a lump sum and a quarterly payment for the duration of Armand’s life, waiving any future claim to the estate. Everything was settled on Marie-Claude absolutely, to do with as she wished. 

When all was complete and binding, Dopheld explained to her what he’d done. She was shocked to learn the truth of her birth and cried, he holding her securely in his arms. Eventually, she became calm and thanked him. 

He then offered to release her from their betrothal so she was free to marry whom she wished, or no-one at all, being now well provided for. Then came the shy confession, she had loved him since she was twelve years old. Had acknowledged it when Dameron took him and Monseigneur captive and had nurtured it ever since. 

He confessed he had come to the realisation later, but loved her just as deeply. They were married three months later. 

He had to delay developing his stud due to the debt incurred to Les Romarins, who held the title deed until the money was repaid. 

+++++ 

After the birth of her first child, but before the conceiving of her second, Rey watched a horseman amble up to the house – a tired looking elderly knight trailing a packhorse. 

“Good morrow, sweetheart, is this Les Romarins?” the corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a smirk. She would know that mannerism anywhere. 

Stepping up to the horse, she grasped the leather of his stirrup and raised her face to his. 

“Yes it is. Welcome to Les Romarins, Papa”. 

Han Solo’s intended brief visit to his son extended indefinitely. He never left Les Romarins. His many grandchildren adored him and revelled in having a famous jouster, a former acknowledged star of the tournament, as their Grandpere. 

He had been reconciled with his errant wife, who had entered a convent as a lay person, providing for her upkeep and selling his estate – his last link with England. 

Papa Pierre-Marie determined that spiritual guidance was needed at the manor when the children began to arrive and applied to the bishop for the (spurious) post of confessor. This was granted and he too moved in. 

As well as spiritual instruction, he imparted interesting stories about their parents to the children, and instruction in armed and unarmed combat – just as he had done for their mother. 

In this, he was ably assisted by their grandfather, who had his own stock of stories to tell. They also witnessed thrilling demonstrations when Papa Pierre-Marie and Grandpere Han sparred – although these became fewer as they aged. 

If Papa and Uncle Dopheld were around they too could be persuaded to spar, but best of all when all three went up against their father. The lightning speed of his hands as he wielded the practice weapon thrilled them. 

Occasionally their mother sparred with their father using a quarterstaff. These bouts generated no enthusiasm as it quickly ended in them both kissing. Really, Maman was so hopeless at fighting it was embarrassing. 

Often, Maman claimed she had sprained her ankle and had to be carried to bed by Papa, who then had to stay nurse her. No, Maman could not fight. Thank goodness for Papa and Uncle Dopheld. 

+++++ 

Although there was now a large number of staff employed at Les Romarins, Rey never ceased her management of the household. 

Her pregnancies did not slow her down either, each one a neat little bump – her pimples Ben called them. She hopped onto the birthing stool, hopped off and resumed her sex life about two to three weeks after giving birth; having daily completed the exercises Madeleine gave her to restore her for her husband’s pleasure. Ben lived in constant awe of her. 

Tallie never married. The girl who chased boys and schemed to catch Finn had three very good offers and turned all three down. Her parents were in despair. When it came to it, she would not leave Les Romarins. She took charge of the nursery and her own wages and became Tante Tallie, as important and necessary to the children as their parents. 

Armand Hux never remarried. His mistresses got younger with each passing year, always brunettes but, try as he might, never the equal of Rey Kenobi-Solo. He spent most of his time in Paris, unable to deny Marie-Claude’s parentage – she was so obviously his daughter, he could never face Rey again. 

Finn and Kaydel’s third son inherited Kaydel's estates in France, returning to claim them at the age of nineteen. 

He chose a daughter of Les Romarins as wife. Ailenor was five years younger than Roman de la Mare, and she had fixed her interest with him when she accidentally fell out of a tree in front of his horse aged fourteen. She had her mother’s heart. 

Kaydel and her youngest child, a daughter, returned to France after Finn’s passing, living once more on the de la Mare estate under the protection of her son. 

Lor San Tekka was offered, but refused, a Cardinal’s hat. He was content to remain Bishop of Theed and thereby stay close to his beloved niece and the family he loved so much. As his health failed, he was brought to Les Romarins and lived there; content and well cared for until his passing. He lies in the abbey of Theed. 

One of his final acts of friendship toward Dopheld was to gift him three mares of his choosing before he sold his horses and hounds upon his retirement from public life. These were the basis of Dopheld’s stud, which metamorphosed fully into a racing stud in the nineteenth century, still owned and managed by Dopheld and Marie-Claude’s descendants. 

The bishop left two large estates (with hereditary titles) in his Will to his niece – his Valois and San Tekka inheritances After much discussion she resigned them in right of her two eldest boys. It cost many tears to part with her sons, but the third son remained to inherit Les Romarins. 

This boy had inherited his mother’s love of plants and had a genuine interest in the products she made. He laid the foundation of what became, in modern times, an internationally known cosmetics firm, all its products plant based. 

He was deeply in love with Kaydel’s youngest daughter but considered it hopeless to ask for her, reckoning her too many degrees above him 

Fortunately for him, she was her mother’s daughter and wasn’t about to let a shy, six foot black haired boy with eyes the colour of cognac and bee stung lips she wanted to constantly kiss slip through her fingers. 

Lor San Tekka had also recovered the Capet-Amidala estate and chateau, which had reverted to the crown on Padme’s death. This estate was willed to Ben by the bishop, who eventually settled it on his daughters as a joint inheritance. 

+++++ 

There were always stag hounds at Les Romarins, traceable back to the original two, Bail and Beru, who lie under the shade of trees at Les Romarins – a commemorative stone tablet set over them. A stone seat was placed there and it became a favourite retreat of the Kenobi-Solo’s 

Silencer lies there too, Ben unable to part with him even in death. Along with Dopheld and hired labourers, he dug a deep pit and buried his horse standing up. As with Bail and Beru, a commemorative tablet was placed over him - the hounds lying close by, companions in death as in life. 

Ben reckoned he’d only let him down one day. The morning he showed lame and Ben borrowed a mount. The morning he was ambushed and captured. Had he been astride Silencer, he told his children, the horse would have bitten and kicked and they would have fought their way free. Then again, without that day he would never have met Maman, so maybe not. 

In their lifetime at Les Romarins, the arms of Capet-Amidala and Solo were added in stained glass to the windows in the Great Hall by Rey and Ben, just as her father had done for his Valois-San Tekka wife. They sent to Paris and the College of Heralds, who drew up new arms for the house Kenobi-Solo. This signified the revival of two houses which had nearly become extinct - two houses which could only thrive and endure in union one with the other. 

These arms were added to the windows of the Great Hall and a shield painted and hung on its walls. 

In time, young Benjamin Lor Kenobi-Solo, Seigneur de Les Romarins, added the arms of his Neville-de la Mare wife, Clemence, and hung her shield.

**Author's Note:**

> the redeeming of kylo ren/ben solo as described in this fic. was a possibility in the Hundred Years War between England and France. it is unlikely that someone of Rey's status would have taken this action, but for the purposes of this fic. ...
> 
> Coup de Foudre = Love at First Sight


End file.
